


Taking Charge

by A_Perverted_Romance_Addict



Series: In Charge [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chill Harry Potter, Don't copy to another site, Harry confuses the living shit out of Voldemort, Humor, Laid-back Harry Potter, M/M, No Sex, Romance, Some kissing, Voldemort infiltrates Hogwarts as a Student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Perverted_Romance_Addict/pseuds/A_Perverted_Romance_Addict
Summary: Cedric’s death marked Harry. It made him think. Really think. About life. About death. What it means to live and what is important in life. His priorities change. His perception of the world and people within it changes.As he evaluates his life until now, he comes to the realisation that his life has never been his own and that he was never truly alive. Determined to change that, he makes a decision; he is going to take his life into his own hands. He is going to be the only one in charge of himself and his happiness. Because he wanted and deserved to be happy. He wanted and deserved to live without people meddling and trying to control him, without trying to hurt him.He was aware people would be confused. They will have questions. Some will support him, some will absolutely resent him. He still wasn’t sure who will fall into which category, but he honestly didn’t give a damn about it, because almost nobody seemed to give a damn about him either.





	1. A Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Genuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genuka/gifts), [Gwendal_Wincott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwendal_Wincott/gifts), [Trickster32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster32/gifts), [Elyrian_XIII](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyrian_XIII/gifts).



> Another Tomarry male slash inpsired by Genuka's bunny #135 (Letters of Truth) at The Bunny Pool. 😄 Since she left it quite open I shaped it so it fit my kind of style of story-telling. If Genuka ends up reading this, I hope she will enjoy it, together with the rest of the people I have gifted this to. 😇
> 
> The number of chapters is still up in the air but it will be around 20 chapters for sure and it will also be a duology. 
> 
> While this work is tagged underage, there won't be any underage sex in this one, just underage kissing. The sex will come in the second part 😉
> 
> Enjoy the story and let me know what you think. What are your first impressions? 😄

_26 June 2015_

It was Harry’s first night back at the Dursleys, but he couldn’t sleep.

He hadn’t really slept for more than four hours a night since witnessing Cedric’s death. Yes, seeing Voldemort get a proper body and duelling him also kept him awake, but it was Cedric’s death that truly kept him from sleeping.

He didn’t really know him. He was a fellow champion. A fellow student. He was a few years older than him, but still young with dreams, desires, and aspirations. He had a nice and beautiful girlfriend. His parents, teachers and many Hogwarts students adored him. He was an exemplary student with good grades and a good character. He was a Prefect. He was a Seeker. He was a Quidditch Captain. He was a good person. He was _so_ many things … and all those things were taken from him in the blink of an eye. It took one simple spell to end his future. His prospects. His happiness. His life.

It made Harry’s chest constrict. It made him agitated. Terrified. It made him think he could die just as easily and now that he thought about it, there were so many life threatening situations in his life that he wondered how he even managed to survive all that with just scratches and bruises: His first encounter with Fluffy. Quirrelmort attacking him. The encounter with the Whomping Willow. Voldemort’s diary setting a basilisk on him. Escaping the acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. The dementors in his third year. His fall from the broomstick. The tournament and Voldemort this year and probably plenty situations more.

He was either extremely lucky or life was trying to tell him to get his shit together and stop putting himself in danger before his luck ran out for good and he really did end up dead. And it might not be even by Voldemort’s hand but something much more banal.

Life was such a delicate thing. Always under the threat of death.

He was aware it was natural for all life to come to an end to give space for other life forms to emerge, that death didn’t have to be the end, but rather the beginning … but death still frightened him. Now more than ever.

He supposed he shouldn’t concern himself over it. After all, he was young and full of life, right? Cedric’s youth was proof that just because you’re young, you’re not immune to death. You never know when something fatal might happen, whether it is an accident, a murder, a disease … or suicide.

No one was safe. No one was immune no matter the age (okay, maybe Voldemort was the exception to the rule … somehow).

He didn’t know what death felt like or what came after it. He supposed the idea of the immortal soul able to reincarnate provided comfort, but it was the uncertainty of what happened after one drew their final breath that filled him with dread … that made it hard to breath.

He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. But what was life in the first place? What constituted being alive?

Was it breathing? Was it eating, sleeping? Was it being healthy? Was it being happy? Was it having sex and reproducing? Was it being at peace with oneself? Was it doing great things that left a physical mark on the world? Was it dying without regrets?

He didn’t know. He supposed it was all those things, but he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that for as long as he could remember his life had never truly been his own. There always seemed to be someone or something dictating his decisions or making the choices, important, life-changing choices, for him, and he didn’t like that.

No one should have that kind of power and authority over him. Yes, it was true that he was still a minor, not even fifteen yet, and that he lacked knowledge and skills to be completely independent, but if anything his life at the Dursleys had taught him was to take care of his basic needs should he ever live on his own. He knew how to cook, how to clean, how to do laundry, how to take out garbage, how to do grocery shopping, how to do gardening …

It was true that he had to learn all that the hard way and at an age where most children only cared about playing games and having fun, but now he could really see and appreciate the value and benefits of all the chores he was forced to do around the house for so many years. If he also learnt how to fix a leak, how to change a light bulb, how to fix an electrical or mechanical problem around the house, that would really make him independent and capable enough to live on his own.

He already had the trust vault at Gringotts filled with money, but maybe getting a summer part-time job wouldn’t be bad either. To keep his mind occupied with other things. Because if he kept his mind occupied, he wouldn’t have time or the energy to think about unpleasant things; Cedric’s death and Voldemort’s return being a couple of those unpleasant things.

But first, he would have to convince the Dursleys to let him work outside the house, to be absent for a few hours a day during work days, maybe an occasional Saturday or Sunday as well.

He needed a plan. He needed to write things down for himself to keep in mind. Not just something short term, but long term goals as well. It would be like writing New Years’ resolutions only that instead of waiting for the New Year to come, he was going to take charge of his life that very night.

He sat up in his bed, got up and started to look for something to write. He found a spiral notebook in A5 format and a few broken crayons. Not ideal, but better than nothing. Then, he sat on his bed again and let the moon give him light.

He decided to write a list. A list of things he would do to be in control of his life and to live happily, peacefully, healthy and for as long as he could. It took him at least an hour to compile it, but by the time he was done, he was satisfied with what he came up with.

**HARRY’S LIST OF THINGS TO LIVE A LONG, HAPPY, HEALTHY AND PEACEFUL LIFE**

  1. **Look out for your health!** – Eat _healthy_ and _regularly_. Exercise (jogging, walking, push-ups, sit-ups, squats, stretching). Do yoga and meditation. Avoid too much stress. Don’t smoke. Don’t do drugs. Don’t drink alcohol (okay, maybe a glass for special occasions … like New Year).
  2. **Love yourself!** – Because self-love is important.
  3. **Live and do things at your own pace!** – Life is not and should not be a competition. If you haven’t done something another person has done by a certain age, don’t feel upset or like you’re missing out on something. You’ll do it _if_ and _when_ you feel like it. Don’t force yourself to do something just because other people are doing it.
  4. **Get a summer part-time job(s)** – something that allows you to build strength, stamina and muscles, and doesn’t require any sort of education beyond knowing how to write, read, add, subtract, multiply and divide. Check your local post office if they need weekly newspaper delivery and check in with the neighbours if they need baby or dog sitting. Then, once you turn 15, check in with a café or a restaurant for waiting tables, cleaning or some small work in the kitchen.
  5. **Become more studious, but don’t become obsessed with grades!** – Knowledge is power. Educate yourself about the world around you. Real knowledge should never be subjected to a grading system, because no one knows everything about everything so they can’t judge other people based on how little or how much they know about something.
  6. **Be more open-minded!** – The world and people are not black and white, but all kinds of grey. Don’t judge people before you get to know them! Re-evaluate your beliefs about what you know or think you know. Mainly your attitude towards Slytherins, but also the rest of the Hogwarts houses, as well as certain people in your life.
  7. **Be less impulsive!** – Think things through. Weigh your options, the pros and cons. Assess the situation. Never jump the gun or willingly and knowingly put yourself in harm’s way (only in extreme situations). However, don’t be afraid to try new things (either sports like martial arts, travelling to exotic places, learning foreign languages or doing things out of your comfort zone, like knitting, sewing, bobbin lacemaking, needlepoint tapestries, crochet and embroidery or colouring your hair in the colours of the rainbow).
  8. **Quit Quidditch!** – It’s a dangerous sport and it presents an unnecessary risk. At the end of the day, it’s not really important.
  9. **Don’t let small things upset you or get to you!** – Especially anything insulting that Malfoy and Snape say. It’s not worth it.
  10. **Mend/improve your relationship with the Dursleys** – Be careful in how you approach them, but no matter what, for your life to be peaceful, you need to be on their good side. Maybe offer to pay for your living expenses. You can still do household chores, especially when it gets too tough for Petunia (it will establish a better relationship … hopefully)
  11. **Send a letter to Voldemort** – Ask him about his motives, why he wants to kill you so badly. Offer a peace branch and avoid confrontation at all cost. Maybe get to know him. Maybe if you understand him, everything will make more sense.
  12. **Improve your relationship with Snape** – Maybe do something similar as with Voldemort. Ask him why he seems to dislike you so much. Apologise for all the times you’ve been rude to him, disrespected him, or could have put more effort into your school work, but didn’t.
  13. **Find joy in small things!** – Sometimes going back to nature is the answer.



It was by no means a complete list, so he could add more principles to follow as he went through his everyday life, but these 13 things were essential bits.

Later, before going to Hogwarts, he would do a poster where he would transcribe a shorter and more concise version of what he had now to hang it above his bed in the dorm so he could look at his list whenever he felt like it.

Now, that he was looking at number 7, he thought he should also write a list of things he wanted to try at least once in his life to see how he felt about them, but were not in any way life-threatening or hazardous to his health (physical or psychological).

He turned the spiral notebook to a blank page, grabbed another crayon in a different colour and started writing his second list.

**HARRY’S LIST OF NON-LETHAL, NON-LIFE-THREATENING AND NON-HEALTH-HAZARDOUS THINGS TO TRY AT LEAST ONCE IN HIS LIFE**

  1. **Try at least one martial art!** – Right now only Karate, Judo and Taekwondo come to mind, but add martial arts as you learn more about them.
  2. **Learn at least one foreign language!** – Pick one that really interests you, whether because it would be useful or because it sounds good (Spanish, Italian, French, German, Russian, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Greek, Portuguese, Hungarian, Finnish, Swedish, Danish, Aztec, Maya, Inca, Latin, Hebrew, Mongol, etc.)
  3. **Read at least one religious/philosophical text!** – Like the Bible or Quran, maybe something on Buddhism as well. Then all those famous philosophers like Aristoteles, Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Confucius, Descartes, Jean-Paul Sartre, etc. Just to see what they are about. Maybe they will provide you with practical life lessons to implement in your life.
  4. **Travel to exotic places!** – Or just another foreign country will do. See the world and explore its wonders.
  5. **Try eating exotic food!** – Or just try the cuisine from other cultures, nationalities, countries. (Chinese, Japanese, Spanish, Mexican, Italian, French, Korean, Indian, etc.)
  6. **Try your hand at crafts!** – Especially things like knitting, needlepoint tapestries, bobbin lace, crochet, embroidery, and sewing. It’s useful as well as fascinating.
  7. **Try doing different DIY projects!** – Such as making pompoms, home/room décor, slime, etc.
  8. **Try a few fun chemical experiments!** – Look up a few basic, easy, non-dangerous chemical experiments you can do at home, but don’t actually do them at home. Ask Snape to let you experiment in a safe room.
  9. **Try your hand at drawing and painting!** – You might never be an amazing artist, but that shouldn’t stop you from doing it.
  10. **Try ballroom dancing!** – Why not? It looks amazing. (Salsa, Cha Cha, Foxtrot, Waltz, Rumba, Cumbia, Bachata, etc.)
  11. **Learn how to shuffle!** – It looks so cool, and I want to be cool.
  12. **Try to learn how to play at least one musical instrument!** – There are many musical instruments, but I am most curious and interested to learn how to play the guitar (especially the electric one) or the drums. Those sound awesome to play as well.
  13. **Try acting in a school play**! – Convince your friends and schoolmates to set up a short play based on a famous literary play or fairy tale.
  14. **Read fairy tales and stories for children! –** Hans Christian Andersen and Brothers Grimm pop to mind immediately, but Roald Dahl is a must-read as well (especially Mathilda, The Witches, and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory).
  15. **Dye your hair in the colours of the rainbow!** – Because why not. I want to see just how it makes me look. It’s not like I’ll wear rainbow-coloured hair for the rest of my life. A month or even a week will be more than enough.
  16. **Wax at least once in your life!** –I want to understand the pain of beauty. I already respect women and girls, but I have a feeling subjecting myself to waxing might just make me respect them even more.
  17. **Get a baby doll with batteries and try being a parent!** – Before you start thinking about marriage and kids, see if it’s something you would like to do for the rest of your life, or at least until the kids move out of the house. Divorce exists, but why would you get married in the first place if you were going to get divorced anyway. So, no. If I ever get married, I want to be sure that my significant other is the person I want to spend my life with and have kids.



By the time he reached number 17, he looked at the clock and saw it was already past two in the morning. He closed the notebook and put it under his pillow. Then, he tried to fall asleep until it was time to start his usual day at the Dursleys.

He should take advantage of being alone with his aunt in the kitchen to mention his plans of working part-time, paying for his living expenses, and just trying to improve the relationship to the point of cohabiting in relative peace, with no anger outburst from Vernon or bullying from Dudley. He was certain that if he could convince her, she would be the perfect middle person between him and her husband and son.

They might never have an amazing relationship, but as long as they could live under the same roof without him being a punching bag for Dudley, a stress reliever for Vernon and a house elf for Petunia, he was more than happy to spend his summers at the Dursleys.


	2. A Strange Dream and the Peace Treaty of 4 Privet Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry dreams about Voldemort and he manages to convince his relatives into a mutually beneficial arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support! 🤗 💕 I hope you enjoy the chapter! 😁 Since Harry is slowly but surely taking things into his own hands. 😉

When Harry woke up in the morning, he woke from a very confusing and weird dream.

He dreamt about the graveyard of course, but it was … different. For starters, there was no Cedric, dead or deceivingly alive. There was no Wormtail either. No Death Eaters. Just him and Voldemort, who, instead of paying attention to him, was pacing back and forth muttering something under his breath.

Harry strained to hear what he was saying, but couldn’t catch more than a few stray words: Potter, Ministry and prophecy. He got closer to hear him better. He even called out to him, several times, but he kept ignoring him. It’s not like he was invisible or mute! Why was Voldemort not paying attention to him? Why was Voldemort not reacting to him calling his name? Not that he wanted Voldemort to pay attention to him. He simply found it very rude of Voldemort not to answer when he was speaking to him.

He was about to grab him by the arm and make him look at him, when Voldemort evaporated and the ground beneath him shook and split open, and he fell. When he finally hit solid ground again, he found himself in a deserted corridor made of black ceramic tiles leading to a big door.

Harry approached the door. Halfway towards it, he started to hear whispering. It grew in volume, but he couldn’t make out a single word. He woke up after touching the door.

Sitting up in his bed, he looked at the clock on the nightstand and saw it was 6:18. Great, he slept less than four hours … again. At this point, it will be a miracle if he manages not to collapse from exhaustion.

Letting out a sigh, he carefully made his way downstairs to the kitchen and started working on the breakfast, a small and fast one for himself, before starting on a bigger one for his relatives, taking the time to come up with the perfect plan to approach the Dursleys.

By the time his aunt and uncle came down; he already had a generous and traditional English breakfast ready for them, with fresh English tea, coffee and orange juice for choice and the morning newspaper waiting on the table. He even made sure to be cheerful and subservient without sounding or looking pathetic.

Both Petunia and Vernon looked unsure and confused of what was happening. Only the night before, he looked like a zombie that even they decided to leave him be, and now, here he was, cheerful like never before. Still shocked, they let him stir them towards the table with perfectly cooked food that looked like it came out a five-star restaurant, cooked by a professional chef, and hold out the chairs for them … like a waiter or a butler. He even had the posture and the thing draped over his forearm.

“Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, would you like to wait for Dudley to wake up and join you or would you like to eat now, without him,” he asked politely. They blinked a few times, looking at each other. “Do not worry, should you decide to breakfast without him, I will make sure to either set aside a portion for him or simply make it fresh,” he added. “Only the best for your son.”

“W-We’ll eat now, without him,” said Petunia. “He needs his sleep now that he’s finally free from school for the summer.”

“I couldn’t agree more with you, Aunt Petunia,” smiled Harry. “What can I pour for you? Freshly-brewed tea or coffee, or freshly-squeezed orange juice?”

“I’ll have some tea,” answered Petunia warily.

“I’ll have some coffee,” answered Vernon in the same tone.

“Understood.” Harry gracefully picked up the teapot and gently poured the tea into his aunt’s cup. Then, he repeated the same with the coffee pot for his uncle. “Milk? Sugar?” he offered cheerfully.

“Yes, please,” they said in unison.

As he let them serve themselves, he turned on the TV so Vernon could listen to the morning news. “If you need anything else, please, let me know,” he said politely, bowing slightly, before retiring to the kitchen and busying himself with cleaning the dishes.

After they finished eating and Vernon left, Petunia sat down in front of the television, sending wary occasional looks Harry’s way. Harry didn’t let his aunt’s stares perturb him and he collected the dirty plates and cups to wash them.

Not long after, Dudley came down to eat. Just like his parents before him, he was speechless at the sheer amount of food on the table. Harry immediately offered him something to drink, while also offering him a choice between reheating the breakfast and making something fresh, but it would take more time before it cooked, therefore if he wanted to eat immediately, reheating a portion in a microwave was much quicker.

After Dudley numbly went for the first option, he looked at his mother, confused. “What’s with him?” he asked in a loud whisper.

Petunia simply shrugged and said, “I don’t know, Duddykins.”

When Dudley finished eating, he said goodbye to his mother and left to hang out with his gang, correction, friends, and play some video games, correction, bully others, but that was not Harry’s business. He needed to look out for himself first.

Now that his aunt and he were alone, he took the opportunity to speak to her. He approached her in the living room.

“Aunt Petunia,” he said softly to draw her attention. She looked at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Could I speak with you for a moment, please?”

“What do you want?” she hissed impatiently.

“I know you don’t like me, you and your family have made that very clear since the very beginning. Ever since you took me in, there has been tension between you three and me that has done neither you, your family nor I any good, and I want to change that.”

“Get to the point,” she interjected with narrowed eyes.

Harry took a deep, reassuring breath. “I want a truce, Aunt Petunia. A truce or a peace treaty if you will between you, your husband, your son and me,” he said, his voice and expression full of determination. Petunia’s eyes widened. “I want us four to co-exist harmoniously without any sort of physically, emotionally or psychologically abusive behaviour from either sides. I know you don’t like my nature, in fact you fear and despise it, however, I firmly believe that we can all make the best of these two months ahead of us. We can arrange it so both sides can benefit from the arrangement that we are in, if only you are willing to negotiate. I would have approached Uncle Vernon on the subject, but he has a short temper and Dudley probably wouldn’t even care, so you, Aunt Petunia, are the only one I can really speak to right now about this.”

She observed him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion, not exactly sure what to make of his words. “I’m listening.” She crossed her arms.

Now that he had her full attention and interest, he could finally talk about concrete things he had in mind. “You know how you and Vernon always said I had to do chores around the house to earn my keep?” he asked tentatively.

Petunia nodded.

“Well, I was thinking of taking on a part-time job, maybe two, to earn some money and pay you a portion of my earnings to pay my rent, the food, the utilities, especially my access to the bathroom.”

The mention of money made Petunia’s eyes light up for a second. “And just how much money are we talking about?” she asked in a calculative manner.

“Well,” he breathed, “since I’m a minor, not even fifteen yet, I would be earning far less than a regular employee, but I suppose I can earn around 100 pounds a week if I decide to work from Monday to Saturday, four hours a day for 5 pounds per hour. Therefore, we could place the rent price between 80 and 100 pounds a week. I would still do chores around the house, but since I would be spending quite a lot of time outside, I wouldn’t be able to do everything. Because of that, we have to discuss everything in detail and outline my duties and responsibilities to this household. In turn, I only ask that your husband, your son and you don’t mistreat me in any kind of way.”

Petunia regarded him with narrowed eyes for a while, with what he assumed was a pensive look, but she ultimately agreed to speak on his behalf about his proposal to her husband and to talk with Dudley about not hitting or insulting Harry.

Harry let out a little sigh of relief and a small smile grazed his lips. “Thank you, Aunt Petunia. You won’t regret this.” He bowed and excused himself.

Later that day, after dinner, the three of them, Vernon, Petunia and Harry, sat down at the kitchen table and started defining what each contracting party would be doing for the remainder of the summer, before Harry went to school again.

Harry would still cook at least one meal a day and take out the trash from Monday to Saturday. He would do the laundry once a week, the same went for the groceries shopping, sweeping, hoovering, dusting and watering the plants, but they have agreed to let him rest on Sundays. In turn, he was now free to eat three full meals a day, which would cost him 70 pounds a week together with his room rent. He could also shower three times a week and have free use of the toilet and the sink for his physiological needs and brushing his teeth. However, he was _not_ allowed to use their personal hygiene products, which meant he would have to buy his own toothpaste, soap and shampoo as well as towels and anything else he might want or need to keep himself clean. This, of course, would cost him additional 10 pounds a week. It would have stopped there, but Vernon insisted on Harry contributing 5 pounds for the Council Tax, bringing his total to 85 pounds a week for his stay.

In turn, the Dursleys have agreed not to demean, punish or abuse him. Any interaction between them was to be strictly cordial and respectful. As for the money, Harry would have to pay upfront every Sunday and the contract would enter into force the upcoming Monday, when Harry would begin looking for his part-time job or jobs. Once he was certain when and how much he would be earning, they would set up a more detailed schedule of his chores for individual days.

As Harry lay in bed that night, looking over his list of thirteen things to live a happy, long and peaceful life, he put a tick next to number 10. On Monday, he would take care of number 4, and after that was done, he would start working on numbers 11 and 12. The sooner he got things sorted out with both Voldemort and Snape, the better; however, he shouldn’t get ahead of himself. First the jobs and then the letters to Voldemort and Snape.

He frowned in thought and stared at number 5. Maybe he could squeeze it in on Monday as well. After checking in with the neighbours and the local post office, he would pay a visit to his primary school, more specifically to the school counsellor Mrs. Nightingale. The school barely ended, the staff should still be at the school for at least another week or two, finishing the end-of-the-year paperwork or something.

As someone who studied psychology, Mrs. Nightingale was well versed in how the human mind operated, how the learning process and the human memory worked. He could ask her for advice on how to study for exams, how to organise his time, how to make notes, how to retain as much information as possible … He could also ask her for counselling sessions to sort out his mind and his feelings, to learn how to overcome trauma in a healthy and effective way.


	3. Counselling, Part-Time Jobs and New Acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets two part-time jobs, meets with his primary school counsellor and meets a few new people and animals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, bookmarking, subscribing and leaving kudos on this work! 🤗 It always makes me happy knowing that you enjoy my stories. 💕
> 
> Fell free to point out any mistakes you might spot while reading, or just let me know what you thought of the chapter, or maybe you have a question you would like to ask me. 😇

The next morning, Harry walked to the local library to check the legalities of child employment and see what the procedure and the requirements were on the Internet. He managed to print out the form in two copies, if he was successful in finding more than one part-time job, and fill it out with his personal information. The only downside of the document was the school information, because as far as he knew Hogwarts was inaccessible to muggles. He would have to find a roundabout way or maybe go to Gringotts and try to explain the situation and find a solution, because he was not going to let school information get in the way of him finding a summer part-time job.

On Sunday, Harry made a list of things he wanted to do on Monday.

First, after waking up and making breakfast for his relatives, he would head out and go around the neighbourhood to see if anyone needed any help with either mowing the lawn, taking care of the dogs, babysitting, or any other relatively simple odd job. If he didn’t prove successful with the neighbours, then, he would go to the local post office and negotiate something. After that, he would visit his primary school, look for the school counsellor, and have a chat with her.

Satisfied with his plan for Monday, Harry let out a tired sigh, stretched in his bed and fell asleep at nine-thirty. To some, it might be a bit early for bed, but if he planned to get up at six-thirty and get his nine-hour sleep, he needed to go to bed by then.

…

While Harry’s plan sounded good in theory, he forgot that up to that point, his relatives had made sure to paint him in the most negative light possible to other residents at Privet Drive. He was nothing but a delinquent and a good-for-nothing to them, so, when Harry finally wanted to offer his help for a small allowance, every single neighbour turned him down and almost shut the door in his face.

Defeated, he went to the post office and since it was quite a small community where everyone knew everyone, well, people at the post office were not thrilled to see him either. Especially when he looked the part of a delinquent wearing Dudley’s baggy pants and T-shirt. However, this time, Harry refused to back down, until they agreed to give him the chance to prove he was a responsible, hard-working and honest worker.

After a lot of pleading and bargaining, they agreed to employ him part-time, three days a week, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Since he was under 15, he couldn’t work before seven in the morning and after seven in the evening, therefore, he would start at 7:00 and finish at 11:00, because he also couldn’t work more than four hours at once without a break and he couldn’t work for more than 25 hours a week. They agreed to pay him five pounds an hour and he would receive his wage every Saturday upfront. His duties would be to sort and deliver post and whenever he would be on the delivering duty, he would cover Privet Drive, Wisteria Walk, Magnolia Crescent and Magnolia Road. He would start on Thursday, and he hoped he would have the employment form in order by then to avoid any legal issues for his employer.

“Thank you so very much for giving me this opportunity to earn honest money,” said Harry in earnest, shaking the director’s hand.

“The pleasure is mine, Harry. If employing you part-time here for the summer will help you sort yourself out, then this arrangement benefits us both,” returned the director.

“I will not disappoint, sir,” assured him Harry.

He left the office, greeting everyone on the way with a smile. Outside the post office, he let out a sigh of relief and after taking a deep, reassuring breath; he mentally checked the first and second bullet points off his _Monday, 29 June 2015_ list. Now, it was time to move onto the third one.

…

It felt weirdly nostalgic crossing the school entrance. So many memories came flooding back to him, most of them unpleasant, images of Dudley and his gang chasing and bullying him, the disappointed and disapproving looks of the teachers for his poor academic performance. Nevertheless, there were also some pleasant and cheerful ones, like getting candy from Mrs Nightingale or receiving praise for small achievements in the form of teacher’s notes on his homework or after class.

He took in the Entrance Hall, which branched off into the dining room and kitchen on the right and into school lockers on the left. Up ahead, there was the secretary’s office together with the Head’s office and staff room too. The hall looked empty and through the glass, he could see some staff walking in and out of that particular section.

Steeling himself, he walked straight ahead towards the secretary to inquire after Mrs. Nightingale. She could be either in the staff room or in her own office on the first floor, next to the toilets. The door to the secretary’s office was wide open. He knocked anyway.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted tentatively.

She turned her head towards him. Her face lit up in recognition almost immediately.

“Oh, if it isn’t Harry,” she greeted him excitedly. “What a surprise! How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he said, smiling, after he recovered from the shock of seeing the secretary’s joy at seeing him after so many years. “And you?”

“Oh, you know, busy organising paperwork so that the Department of Education doesn’t send us complaints for not having our red tape in order,” she rolled her eyes and gestured towards the heaps of paper and folders that were stacked around her computer and desk. “At least the classes have finished and the students are on vacation,” she added in a relieved sigh. “Hopefully by the end of this week, we’ll be over too, because I’m already losing my mind over all the forms and reports.”

Harry winced and let out a hiss of sympathy. “Sounds rough.”

“It is, but enough about bureaucracy.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Tell me what brings you here? Not many ex-students nowadays come to visit their elementary school.”

“Well, I was hoping to say ‘hi’ to Mrs. Nightingale and maybe ask her for some advice in regards to studying and my future career,” explained Harry. “That is if she still works here.”

“Of course, Florence still works here,” she reassured him with a smile. “In fact, you’re in luck, because just a few minutes ago, they finished a staff meeting and she went to her office to gather her things and call it a day. So, if you hurry, you just might catch her. I hope you remember where her office is.”

Harry smiled brightly at the news. “Yes, I do remember, where it is. Thank you, it was nice seeing you again.”

“You’re welcome, Harry,” she returned his smile. “And likewise. If you have the time do come visit again, maybe just before the new school term starts in September.”

He chuckled. “I will. Goodbye.”

He hurried up the stairs and knocked on the office door. He felt relieved to hear Mrs. Nightingale’s voice grant him entrance. He slowly opened the door and peeked inside with his head.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted. She didn’t recognise him immediately, but it wasn’t long when there was recognition in her eyes. “Oh, Harry!” she greeted. “What a surprise to see you here! Come in, come in,” she urged him inside enthusiastically.

He entered and closed the door.

“Sit,” she gestured towards the seat at her round table, covered in papers and folders. He did. “Excuse the mess, I’m organising and filing away for the day,” she said apologetically while gathering the paperwork. “I’ll continue sorting everything tomorrow. I’ve had enough for one day.”

“Mrs. Shaw said that you just had a staff meeting.”

“Yes, it lasted five hours and I can’t think straight anymore. I need food and coffee,” she was talking as she was packing her things, “but do tell what I can do for you, because I suppose you came to see me for something more than just a greeting, am I right?”

Harry let out a little nervous chuckle. “Well, I was hoping you could help me organise my study time above all else.”

“Are you struggling with grades again?”

“Some subjects are more problematic than others in that regard, but overall my grades are fine. However, the GCSEs are approaching and I want to do well on them,” explained Harry, but he was actually referring to the wizarding equivalent, O.W.L.s. “The problem is that the school I’m at doesn’t really have a counsellor and they don’t really offer advice on how to study effectively or how to organise one’s time or how to take notes.”

“Remind me where you went after you graduated from here.”

“To a boarding school in Scotland. It has a very long name and I still have trouble remembering it,” he said apologetically.

“No matter, well, if you need help and advice you came to the right person.” She walked to one of the cupboards, unlocked it and began looking through the books. “Just a few weeks ago, I attended a conference where we had plenty of workshops and talked about the importance of learning strategies and techniques, how to develop them in students and the like. There was also a section with books on strategies and I bought quite a few of them.” She picked a few titles from the shelves and returned to the table. “Unfortunately, I still haven’t got around to reading all of them and most of them centre on language learning, but I think you could still find some useful information in them.”

She passed them to him so he could look at them. As he was leafing through the books, she continued speaking. “They cover everything from learning styles to multiple intelligences and learning strategies for each intelligence and learning style, they even explain a bit about the types of memory, how our brain processes information and why we forget. I would recommend you first do a questionnaire in one of the books to see where you fit as a learner, what style suits you best so that you can then find appropriate strategies.”

“Can I borrow them?” he asked, looking up from the book he was currently looking at.

“Of course. You can have them for the summer. You can even make copies so you can refer to them whenever you want. Trust me; it’s much cheaper making a copy than buying the original.”

“Thank you. I will return them as soon as possible,” he said, packing them in his small backpack.

“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile. “Remember, if there’s anything that you need or don’t understand, don’t hesitate to contact me.” She tore a post-it note, wrote down her phone number, and gave it to him.

He accepted it gratefully. There was a moment of silence, where Harry debated how to ask her for a second favour. Luckily, she offered him the chance herself when she asked him, “Do you need anything else?”

He took in a deep breath. “Actually … there is one other thing.”

“I’m listening.”

“A few days ago, right at the close of the school year … a classmate of mine and I got attacked by a mugger.” He swallowed hard. “He died … in front of me … Everything happened so fast, one second my classmate was well and alive and the next, he was mortally wounded, sprawled on the floor … bleeding out from his gut.”

His hands began to shake, his voice cracked and his eyes filled with tears, remembering the moment the Killing Curse hit Cedric.

Mrs. Nightingale immediately offered him a glass of water and a paper tissue. “Thank you,” he said, accepting both.

“If I understand you correctly, Harry, you wish to have counselling to deal with the trauma that accompanied that horrific incident you just described to me, right?” she said tentatively.

Not trusting his voice, he nodded while taking a sip of water.

She let out a sigh. “I don’t know if I’m the most appropriate person to offer such counselling, because I don’t have credentials for clinical psychology.”

“It doesn’t matter,” assured her Harry. “As long as it’s you, I don’t care if you’re qualified or not. I need someone who I know and can trust.”

She smiled sadly, but nodded. “I understand. If it’s talk what you need, I will be at your disposal whenever you wish to talk, you can’t sleep, or you want to get something off your chest, just give me a call or text me.”

“Thank you,” he smiled gratefully. “Thank you so much.”

His grumbling stomach ruined the moment. He flushed. Mrs. Nightingale laughed. “What do you say to a quick trip to a fast food restaurant?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “I would love to, but I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Nonsense,” she waved her hand dismissively and finished packing her things. “Besides, we can talk while we drive there and now that I’m thinking about it, there’s a place in London I would like to show you. I think it would be a good therapy for you.”

Now, Harry was intrigued. She couldn’t be talking about a clinic. When she beckoned him, he followed her to the parking lot, where she had her car. Once they were on the road, he asked her about it.

“I don’t know how familiar you are with animal-assisted therapy and emotional support and assistance animals, but there have been studies that show that certain animals help alleviate the symptoms of certain mental disorders and aim to improve a person's social, emotional, or cognitive functioning,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve heard of guide dogs, horse therapy for children with Down syndrome, and even cats.”

“I have.”

“Well, since you’re probably suffering from some form of Post-Traumatic Stress disorder, I believe you could benefit from interacting with an animal, emotionally-speaking,” she elaborated. “Just tell me if you’re allergic to dogs or cats.”

“I don’t think so,” he shrugged. He might not have been fond of Marge’s dog or Mrs. Figg’s cats, but it was probably the dog and cat species that didn’t sit well with him.

“That’s good then.”

There was a moment of silence, before Mrs. Nightingale spoke again. “Now that you’re in high school are you also thinking of part-time employment to earn some spending money?”

“Actually, I just managed to get a part-time job at the local post office. I start on Thursday after I get all the paperwork in order,” he said proudly, “but I would have liked to get a second part-time job as well.”

“You’re in luck, then,” she told him, smiling. “I have a friend that opened an animal café a few years back after her husband died. At first, it was called _Kitty Haven_ , because she only had cats, but she recently acquired puppies and renamed her business into _Fluffy Paradise_. She only employs students, because they’re cheap workforce, and mostly part-time. I think she will be able to find a few shifts for you.”

Waiting tables at an animal café? That didn’t sound so bad. He would probably have to walk, feed and water the animals, but that didn’t sound too bad.

“If it’s not too much to ask, I would appreciate it greatly,” he said politely.

After making a quick stop at McDonald’s for lunch, they went to the café, which was surprisingly not that far away from Diagon Alley. Upon entering, the curious puppies immediately greeted them. While Harry’s knowledge of dogs and cats wasn’t the best, he could recognise a Golden Retriever, a Labrador, a Bernese Mountain and either an American Eskimo or a Samoyed. Not that it mattered that much, because they were all adorable.

After disinfecting his hands, he picked up the fluffiest looking one and carried it further inside. He noticed that it wasn’t a big business, but it gave off a homey feel. He spotted the cats, lounging on a windowsill, the cat tree, a chair or in a customer’s lap. Speaking of customers, there weren’t many to begin with, maybe it was the time and the day, and those that were there were mainly elderly ladies, sipping their afternoon tea and gossiping.

He followed Mrs. Nightingale to the till, where he immediately spotted a stern-looking middle-aged woman. For a moment, she reminded him of Professor McGonagall, but without glasses.

“Hey, Victoria,” she greeted her.

The woman glanced at him briefly, before greeting her back. “Hey, Florence. Who do you have with you?”

“This,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “is Harry. He was a student at my workplace. He came to see me for a couple of things and while we were driving here, he mentioned he was looking for another part-time job, so I thought you could squeeze him in a few shifts.”

The woman scrutinised him, before reaching out her hand to greet him. “Nice to meet you, Harry, I’m Victoria.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he returned. Mrs. Nightingale intervened.

“No need to be so wary, Harry. Victoria only looks menacing. In reality, she’s a really nice person. It just takes her a while to warm up to people,” she assured him.

“Well, Harry,” began Victoria, “how old are you?”

“I’ll turn fifteen at the end of July,” he replied.

“A minor then,” she said shrewdly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Well, if you’re comfortable with waiting tables, preparing non-alcoholic drinks like tea, coffee, cocoa, different lemonades, taking care of the animals, interacting with people and you’re not allergic to either cats or dogs, then you can start some day this week.”

Harry’s face illuminated with excitement. “Thank you so much. I don’t mind any of what you mentioned and as far as I know I’m not allergic to either cats or dogs.”

“Great. Then, if you’d, please, follow me.” Still carrying the puppy, he did as told. She showed him a timetable with the workdays and workhours of the café. It was already full with names Nathan and Ana Maria.

“This is where you can choose your shifts,” she told him. “Now, as you can see we work six days a week from Monday to Saturday, from 9am to 9pm during weekdays and from 9am to 5pm on Saturdays. Since you’re below sixteen, I can’t allow you to work more than four hours at once without a break and I can’t let you work past 7pm in the evening, so, you’re free to choose either the morning or the afternoon shift. The first one starts at 9am and ends at 1pm and the second one starts at 1pm and ends at 5pm. As for how much you’ll earn, I pay both Nathan and Ana Maria five pounds per hour and I always pay them upfront at the end of the week.”

“Can more than one person work the same shift?”

“Of course you can share shifts with either Nathan or Ana Maria. As long as one is constantly paying attention to the customers and the till, the other can always take a toilet break or you can take a half an hour off for a walk with the dogs so they can pee and poop.”

“And who are Nathan and Ana Maria?” he asked curiously. He thought he saw a glimpse of both of them at the counter, but he wasn’t sure.

Victoria led him to the till again, where a tall and lean young man with dark brown wavy hair, was washing glasses and cups over the sink.

“Nathan,” called out Victoria. The man reacted instantly. “Come here for a second.” She gestured him to come closer. He looked curiously at Harry, then back at Victoria.

“Nathan, I would like you to meet your new co-worker. Harry. Harry, this is my nephew, Nathan. He’s twenty-one and he’s a computer science student.”

They shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” said Nathan.

“Likewise,” answered Harry.

She immediately called for Ana Maria next, a tanned young woman with long, wavy black hair and dark brown eyes, who just finished saying goodbye to some customers and was picking up the empty glasses on a tray.

“Yes, ma’am?” she said excitedly, when she reached the till. She, too, glanced briefly at Harry.

“Ana Maria, this is Harry, he’ll start working here in a few days. Harry, this is Ana Maria. She’s seventeen and right now, she’s not studying anything. She’s originally from Spain, so if you hear her speaking Spanglish from time to time, don’t be alarmed.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she greeted him with a shake of hands and he returned her greeting with a smile.

“Alright,” breathed Victoria, “now that the introductions are over, I hope you and Nathan can show him around the till, where the storage room is, how to use the coffee machine and the like.”

They nodded.

She turned to Harry. “When do you want to start?”

“I thought I could start on Wednesday morning and then work on Fridays and Mondays as well. I’ll see what shifts I’ll take on those days.”

“Perfect, and you can have the morning shift one week and then the next the afternoon one. It’s not really fixed. You can organise it at your will,” Victoria assured him. “Just give me your phone number so that we can stay in touch if something comes up and I need to let you know.”

“Uh …” he began uncomfortably. “I don’t really have a mobile phone,” he said apologetically.

All four of them looked strangely at him.

“Well, Harry, you must be the only teenager that I know who doesn’t have a mobile phone,” she commented dryly. Harry flushed. “I advise you to get one, because what if you have to tell me you have fallen ill and you can’t come to work, or if either Nathan or Ana Maria can’t come for some reason and I would need you to fill in for them.”

“I understand. I’ll get one by the end of this week.”

For the next hour or so, Mrs. Nightingale and Harry took a seat at one of the tables and ordered something to drink. Harry ordered raspberry lemonade, while Florence ordered a cup of cappuccino. As they waited for their drinks, Harry petted a few of the cats. Apparently, there was a Selkirk Rex, a Ragdoll, a Ragamuffin and a British Shorthair. He didn’t really care as long as the cats were fluffy, friendly and liked to be petted.

After they finished their drinks and said good-bye to his new boss and co-workers, Harry excused himself with Mrs. Nightingale. “I just remembered I need to be somewhere here in London, so I really appreciate the offer, but I’ll go home with either a bus or the tube.”

“Is it far?”

“No, it’s a few streets away,” he assured her with a bright smile. “Again, thank you for your help today and I’ll be in touch once I get a phone.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Take care, Harry.”

He waited for her to drive away, before he started towards Diagon Alley. He believed a visit to Gringotts was in order to take care of some legal, health and financial matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did look up the information about child employment in the UK and have found the following site where I found the restrictions in regards to it: https://www.gov.uk/child-employment/restrictions-on-child-employment. Feel free to check it out if you're curious. 😊
> 
> And I hope you are familiar with animal cafes. They are prominent in Japan, but other countries have implemented them too, even the UK. 😇 The dog and cat names will be introduced in chapter 5.


	4. Legal Matters and Offering a Peace Branch to Voldemort & Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to Gringotts to take care of some things. Voldemort gets a letter from Harry.

During his twenty-minute walk to Diagon alley, Harry had a weird feeling … as if someone was watching or following him. He tried to look at his surroundings inconspicuously every time he had to wait for a traffic light to change to green, but saw nobody. He took advantage of the busy London streets to blend with the crowd and try to break his invisible stalker’s line of sight. He even tried to shake them off by doing little detours, until finally slipping through the Leaky Cauldron’s front door and then quickly going to the back to the archway. He hurried to Gringotts and hoped that his tactic worked.

Inside the bank, he greeted the same goblin that took him to his vault in the first year and asked to speak to him in private. Once in Griphook’s office, he could finally speak freely with the goblin.

“What brings you here, Mr. Potter?” asked Griphook shrewdly.

“Actually a few things.”

“Well, let’s hear them then.”

“First, it is a legal matter, concerning a muggle application form for child employment.” He pulled out the form in question and passed it to Griphook. “I need valid school information before child services can contact everyone to see if everything is in order. However, as you know I attend Hogwarts and I cannot put the information about Hogwarts on it, because it doesn’t exist to muggles. Therefore, I was hoping you could arrange something by Wednesday, if possible.”

The goblin scrutinised the form. “It might be a bit tricky, but there’s hardly anything us goblins cannot achieve … when given the right incentive, of course.”

Harry was slightly confused. “Are you talking about money?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter, money,” he sneered. “The Gringotts Bank will take care of your paperwork in the muggle world for a fee.”

Given that he had quite a money reserve in his vault, he didn’t see a problem with it. “Alright, and how much money would it be?”

“A hundred galleons,” sneered Griphook, showing off his pointy teeth.

Harry’s eyes widened. When converted to muggle money it amounted to 500 pounds, and while it sounded a bit overpriced to him, he figured that paperwork was expensive, especially if you needed fabricated information in a short amount of time, so, he didn’t complain.

He nodded. “Take the money you require directly from my vault. Now, moving onto the second thing I wanted to ask you about. Can Gringotts perform any medical or health tests or is that something done at some other magical institution?”

“While people’s first option for something like that would be St. Mungo’s, when in a pinch, you can take a health test at Gringotts as well for fifty galleons.”

“Fifty galleons?” he repeated, gobsmacked. In just one day, he was going to spend close to two hundred galleons. “And how in detail are the results then if the testing requires that much money?”

“Very detailed, Mr. Potter. It tells you your entire medical history and can even tell you if there are any specific hereditary diseases you should be worried about and the chances of you developing them in the future. It also shows any kind of impurities or unwanted things in your system.”

“I see,” he said, nodding. “Then, I would like to do the Gringotts Health Test or whatever it is called.”

The goblin gleefully added another 50 galleons to his receipt. “Would you like to perform the test now or at a later date?”

“Now.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I would like to withdraw some money from my vault and convert it into muggle money.” An idea occurred to him. “And I was wondering if you have any special writing paper, ink or quill drenched in Veritaserum to make your correspondence and paperwork valid and truthful?”

Griphook narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Indeed, we do use such stationery here at Gringotts, why do you ask?”

“You see, I was hoping I could use some to write two letters to two individuals that, if written on normal parchment, ink or quill, might not believe my words and intentions.”

“We could provide you with the stationery items for two galleons a letter and another galleon for owl delivery, if you would like it to appear as official correspondence.”

Harry felt like Griphook was milking him dry of the money, because every little thing was priced in galleons, but he agreed to take the offer, because he really didn’t want to risk anyone intercepting the letters, especially the letter addressed to Voldemort.

In the end, Harry had to pay 155 galleons for his business with Gringotts and had 30 galleons converted into muggle money, but had to pay another galleon for the transfer fee. He wanted to cry. At this rate, he didn’t want to do business with Gringotts ever again, but knew it was not possible. At least now, he knew what to expect if he ever needed something similar in the future and maybe next time he will be much more careful in asking goblins for favours. The greedy creatures.

Griphook first guided him through the medical examination, which, for something so expensive, looked relatively uncomplicated. He simply had to provide a sample of his blood and then lie down on a stone slab covered in runes and a runic circle around it and let a goblin healer do his thing. Luckily, it didn’t hurt, but the entire procedure made him rather sleepy for some reason. Another minute and he might have dozed off for real.

It also didn’t take long for the results to become available. It would seem that his eyesight could be corrected through a spell, should he wish to get rid of his glasses, and aside from his past malnutrition, his fragile and slightly deformed bones, he seemed to be quite healthy. They advised him to take nutrition potions, but he would rather buy multivitamin and calcium supplements from a muggle pharmacy at this point or just adjust his diet to provide his body with the nutrients it needs than to buy a single thing above five galleons from Gringotts. However, there was a point during his results review that the goblin healer paused with a shocked expression.

“Is something wrong?” Harry inquired cautiously.

“Mr. Potter, according to my readings, you appear to be a horcrux,” said the goblin.

Harry didn’t really understand what the healer was saying. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

The goblin looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “Mr. Potter, do you even know what a horcrux is?”

He shook his head.

“It’s usually an object that stores a piece of person’s soul to keep the person who split the soul in the first place immortal,” explained the goblin and Harry’s eyes widened.

“So …” he began tentatively, swallowing thickly, “you mean to say, there’s a piece of someone’s soul inside me?”

“Indeed, Mr. Potter.”

Harry’s head pounded painfully as he tried to process the information and its implications. There was another person’s soul inside him. How did that even happen? When did it happen? And most importantly, who’s soul was he carrying together with his?

The answers came to him as soon as he thought the last question. Voldemort. Hallowe’en. The night he failed to kill him and he was ‘vanquished’. When the Killing Curse rebounded back at Voldemort, it must have split the man’s soul and let one piece latch itself to his being through the wound on his forehead.

He touched the scar, which was tingling rather than hurting at the moment. Is that why he was able to feel Voldemort’s presence? Because the soul piece of the man that was stuck in there was trying to reunite with the original? How did one even stop being a horcrux?

“Does it say who’s soul is latched onto mine?” He needed confirmation.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle, sir.”

He let out a heavy sigh. He was right. There was a long beat of silence between them.

“Can you remove it?” he asked the goblin healer.

“We could if you’re prepared for the most excruciating pain you’ve ever felt in your life,” he replied.

Harry’s insides turned in aversion at the prospect of any kind of pain, much less the excruciating kind. “Is it in any way endangering my overall health?”

“No. The percentage is so small and it has been almost fourteen years since it occurred that it doesn’t really endanger your life or health, though, given your medical history, it can still cause discomfort and headaches.”

“Then leave it as is,” he said. “If it’s not causing any major problems, we might as well leave it be.”

“As you wish.”

Another question occurred to him. Did Dumbledore know about him being a horcrux? The conversation he had with the man in his second year immediately came to his mind. In his own cryptic and convoluted way, Dumbledore had told him he was a horcrux when he said that Voldemort transferred some of his powers to him that fateful night. He would have appreciated if he had told him about it in a clearer and much more straightforward way, but while it left him somewhat disappointed in the man, he didn’t feel the necessity to hold it against him and try and seek revenge. It just wasn’t worth his time, his energy and definitely not his health. Stress was bad and he didn’t plan to stress over this newly acquired information.

However, he will keep it to himself. He wasn’t stupid enough to go announcing it to everyone. As soon as they learnt about him being the reason Voldemort apparently couldn’t die, they would probably lynch him just to get to Voldemort, and he liked his life too much for something like that, thank you very much.

After the health exam, he wrote the two letters he planned to write and to close off his Gringotts visit for the day, Griphook accompanied him to his vault to get the money, then, transfer it into muggle currency.

With letters sealed and shipped off to their respective addressees and his muggle money in bag, Harry left Gringotts in the late afternoon. He was tempted to shop for some essential hygiene products, but didn’t want to explain to the Dursleys how he could afford so much when he didn’t even get his first wages. As for the mobile phone, he would go to the library to browse the internet, gather information about the cheapest, but still somewhat modern, mobile phone, and look for cheap phone plan deals.

When he got back to 4 Privet Drive, he was so exhausted he simply collapsed into his bed and fell asleep. He was aiming for nine hours of sleep to start normalising his biorhythm and was hoping he was too tired to dream of anything.

…

After the frustration and anger at failing to kill Harry Potter at the graveyard wore off, Voldemort’s first and primary objective was to acquire the prophecy concerning him and the Potter boy. He never learned what the entire thing said in the first place, and since the public didn’t know, or rather didn’t believe, of his return, he had an opportunity to get his hands on it without arousing suspicions. The question was how.

The Polyjuice potion immediately came to mind; however, that one required a month to brew and even when he had the base prepared, who could he even use to get into the Department of Mysteries? He supposed the Head of the Department was the best option, but how could he get his hands on a strand of the person’s hair? Maybe Lucius and his ass-kissing ways could finally prove useful for once, not only to keep the Minister convinced Harry and Dumbledore were delusional liars who were spreading false information, but also to get him a few strands of hair from the Head of the Department of Mysteries. That could work, yes.

Shortly after explaining to his followers how they would proceed in the following month, he received a letter … from Gringotts addressed to … Mortelo Vrdold? Who in Salazar’s name was that and why did the owl deliver it to him? Never mind that, how could an owl from Gringotts find him in his hiding place at the Riddle Manor?

Carefully, he checked it for any tracking spells or other nasty curses. If anything, the contents were drenched in Veritaserum. When his wand didn’t detect anything suspicious, he tore the envelope open, took out the parchment, and began reading the letter.

_Dear Mortelo Vrdold alias Lord Voldemort,_

_Forgive me if the anagram offends you, that is not my intention, but I simply could not risk putting the name you use in public and in private on the envelope. I hope you understand._

_Now, as for the reason of this letter, I am writing to you in hopes of arriving at a ceasefire with you for I do not wish to harm you in any way and I certainly do not wish for you to harm me either. I am not entirely certain why you wish to kill me in the first place, because I do not think I did anything to you as a toddler for you to come after my life. Therefore, I would appreciate an explanation and if there is anything I can do to right any wrongs, I will do my best to do it without having to lay down my life in the process._

_I am aware all this must come as a surprise to you, but I hope that you realise this is no lie or trickery. It is the truth. Feel free to think about a truce or a peace treaty between us for as long as you need. I will wait patiently for your answer._

_Whether positive or negative, please, reply by using the Gringotts envelope and address. If you agree to a meeting between us, I will provide time and place of our conversation. This is not to order you around; it is mainly to find enough time in my busy summer schedule to meet up with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Staring, speechless, at the parchment, Voldemort had to re-read certain parts to grasp the reality of the words he was seeing.

Harry Potter sent him a letter. A letter asking for a truce no less.

Once the weight of that realisation registered and settled in his mind, he felt … numb … lost. He would never have imagined this development and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

Elated, perhaps? Because if he could get rid of the threat that the boy represented to him and his livelihood without having to spend his time, effort and energy on figuring how to take him out for good, he could finally focus everything on conquering magical Britain and fighting the Order that Dumbledore would no doubt form again.

Maybe he should feel angry, because if he suddenly came to a permanent ceasefire with the boy, then everything he went through to get to this point would feel pointless and meaningless. Wasted time and effort, when he could have been focussing on other things.

Amidst the confusion that stormed his mind, there was wariness but also curiosity. However, no matter how tempting it might have been to reply to the letter immediately, he would take his time to form a reply.


	5. Spanish and Guitar Lessons & Falling in Love with Gaming and Lara Croft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first week at work turns out to be very productive, he gets his first weekly salary, his own mobile phone and he manages to arrange a few things from his two lists. He also discovers the appeal of certain games and meets his waifu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This chapter contains Spanglish. If you have problems understanding the parts written in Spanish you can always use Google translate or try and do what Harry did ... using the context to guess the approximate meaning. 😄
> 
> If you notice anything odd, let me know, 😇 otherwise, enjoy the chapter. 😊

After a peaceful night with no dreams to haunt him, Harry thought he should write to his friends to let them know he was doing better and to tell them about his summer part-time jobs. He closed off his letters by asking about their well-being and summer holidays so far.

Since he wouldn’t start working until Wednesday, there wasn’t much he had planned to do on Tuesday. Maybe he would do some shopping, but nothing too crazy. Maybe a bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, together with a couple of towels or just one big one would suffice. He also definitely needed to go to the library to do his research on mobile phones, and do some of the chores around the house.

After his austere morning bathroom routine, he went downstairs to start working on the breakfast for himself and his relatives. He waited for Vernon and Dudley to leave before washing the dishes, informing his aunt about taking out the garbage and asking her whether she needed him to buy any groceries.

She gave him the list and the money. “If you buy anything for yourself, mark it on the receipt and then add it to your rent,” she said, surprising him.

“Of course, Aunt Petunia. Thank you,” he said sincerely.

He bought everything from the list as well as soap, shampoo and a towel for himself, so he could finally wash himself. Luckily, he managed to get everything within the budget he was given. He returned to Privet Drive and began unpacking. He told his aunt the three things he bought for himself and added the sum to his 85 pounds for rent and food. Before he started making lunch, he watered the plants and did the hoovering, because he planned to go to the library in the afternoon, and he wouldn’t have time to do much else around the house.

Washing the dishes after lunch, he let his aunt know he was going to be absent until dinner. As soon as he stepped outside, the heat hit him in the face and even a minute of simply standing in the sun felt like being in a pot full of steam. How some people liked saunas was something he would never understand. All that heat and sweat. He was getting a headache from simply walking without shade.

Luckily, he took some money with him and went to the nearest store to buy a litre and a half of bottled water from the fridge and a vanilla ice cream lolly covered in crushed almonds and the most scrumptious milk chocolate. It was a bit pricey, but he felt like he deserved to treat himself.

While he didn’t appreciate the long walk to the local library under the scorching sun, at least he had his ice cream to keep him cool for those glorious few minutes and whenever a breeze would appear, he felt fresh for a few quick seconds before being enveloped in heat again. He was really going to need a shower after he gets home. He only hoped the library had a working air conditioner, because he didn’t know what he would do otherwise.

When he reached the place and stepped inside, it felt like stepping into a cooler and he couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh, enjoying the coolness for a moment, before finding a free computer and starting his search for the perfect mobile phone.

He lost himself browsing the internet and before he knew it, it was getting close to the library’s closing time. He felt bad for occupying the computer for so long, but at least he was successful and he found a cheap but capable phone and a cheap but okay 12-month phone deal. He was considering signing for a 30-day deal and just renew the contract every month, but in the end, it was much more expensive and tedious than the other option. The only thing he wasn’t entirely sure about was monthly phone receipts, because while he would pay for them, he couldn’t do it while he was at Hogwarts, therefore, he would have to tell his relatives about his phone and ask them to pay the bills for him until he could pay them back. He definitely wasn’t looking forward to telling them about it, but hoped that the promise of money would help.

And it did … like everything to do with money seemed to with the Dursleys.

After dining and speaking with his aunt and uncle about having a phone and a phone deal, he retired to bed. It was still early, but he would have to wake up early anyway to get the breakfast done and get to London on time for his first shift at the animal café. There was a slight churning sensation in his stomach as the excitement and nerves mixed together.

‘ _Don’t worry too much, Harry_ ,’ he told himself. ‘ _Everyone is a novice and a beginner at some point in their lives. Even Nathan and Ana Maria were once in your shoes and look where they are now_.’

He noticed an envelope on his bed. It was a reply from Professor Snape. That was odd. He was certain Voldemort and Snape would ignore his letters and not bother replying at all. He was willing to give both men a few days to reply, but honestly, he didn’t expect anything to come out of it.

What _did_ surprise him was the fact that his friends didn’t reply at all, and while it hurt not getting a reply, he also didn’t want to think too much about it or read too much into it, because for all he knew, they might be busy with other things just like how he was going to be starting tomorrow.

Opening the envelope, he read the professor’s letter:

_Mr. Potter,_

_I must confess that your letter was unexpected and if it weren’t for the fact that you used Veritaserum soaked paper and ink from Gringotts no less, I would have thought it nothing but an insipid prank._

_As for your apology, I accept it, and while your newfound ability of self-reflection is remarkable, I am afraid that until I see proof of your improvement as a person and as a student, everything is just empty words to me._

_In regards to my reasons for being harsher on you than I am on others, you might have noticed that I have compared you to your father on several occasions throughout the years, and there is a reason for it. Because of the delicate nature of the subject, I will not disclose anything in the letter; just know that your father, as I knew him, was not the hero that he is made out to be. What I will say is that seeing you, who looks so much like him and sometimes even acts like him, it brought back unpleasant memories from the time I was your age. I shouldn’t treat you like I do, and that is something I have to work on actively as well, but I let emotions get the better of me and I took my frustrations with your father out on you. I am not trying to excuse or justify my actions and if I ever tell you my experience with your father and the Marauders, I don’t want your pity either._

_I am willing to meet up with you to discuss certain things in a more private setting, but not this week or the week after this one. I barely started my break from all the school-related conundrums; I need some time for myself right now to refill my energy. After that, we can meet wherever and whenever it suits you._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape_

_P. S. I wish you all the best in your summer part-time jobs and I hope it helps you grow as a person._

Harry stared at the letter, blinking at the words. Wow, he actually managed to have a civil exchange with Professor Snape. He had a bad feeling about the part with his father and he was curious to find out what his father might have done to Snape for the man to have flashbacks to an unpleasant time of his life, but he would respect the man’s desire to speak about it in private or not at all.

Too tired to reply, he decided to leave that for the next day.

…

“What’s this?” he asked Ana Maria when he saw two headbands on top of the folded uniform she was holding out to him; one with dog ears and the other with cat ears.

She blinked in confusion at him, wearing cat ears. “Why, _tu_ _uniforme_ , of course,” she said as if it was obvious. “Didn’t the boss tell you about it?”

“No, she didn’t say anything about animal ears being part of the uniform.”

“Well, _el café_ has a custom, you know,” she began explaining in Spanglish, waving her hands about excitedly. “Every Wednesday is animal ears day; which means _que_ _los empleados_ _tienen que llevar_ either cat or dog ears, you can chose whichever, _y puedes llevar_ one pair one Wednesday and the other pair another _mi_ _ércoles_.”

Harry wasn’t ready to face Spanglish on his first day of work, but despite not having much clue what exactly she said, he could deduce the meaning, or an approximation of it anyway, from the context and hand gestures. Add to that the information that he would have to wear animal ears every Wednesday and he felt like he needed to use the toilet. It was a good thing he arrived more than half an hour earlier … as if something in his gut and subconscious was telling him something unexpected might happen and it did.

After getting over the embarrassment of wearing animal ears, he joined Ana Maria at the counter where, after fangirling a bit over how cute he looked with dog ears (at least he assumed that’s what ‘¡ _Ay, mira pero qu_ _é lindo eres con esas orejas de perro_!’ meant from her squeaky voice and her enthusiasm), she very kindly explained how to operate the till, the coffee machine, where to go if he needed to restock something, where the animal food and toys were kept and any other miscellaneous thing he was curious about … but in Spanglish. He could see that she was doing her best to talk in as much English as she could, but when she either wasn’t sure how to phrase something in English or she just felt more comfortable talking in her native language, she immediately switched to Spanish, even in the middle of sentences.

It was impressive she even knew how to switch and combine the two languages in the same sentence, but for someone with zero knowledge of Spanish it was disconcerting and difficult to follow and decipher what she was saying.

When the café opened to the public at nine o’clock, she told him, “ _Recuerda_ , if there is anything you need, _no dudes_ _en preguntarme_ , even if I already explained it. It will take some time for you to get used to the place, _porque tambi_ _én era dif_ _ícil para m_ _í_. _As_ _í que, ya tu sabes_ , don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it _que pa’ eso estoy aqu_ _í_ , to help you.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling.

There wasn’t much traffic during their shift, something Harry appreciated for his first time taking an order and preparing coffee on the coffee machine. When he managed to prepare a coffee successfully, he felt over the moon proud of himself. Now he also needed to master all the different kinds of coffee the establishment served and he would be good.

The customers at this hour of the day in the middle of the week were mostly elderly women that came to gossip about their neighbours or talk about their children and grandchildren, while relaxing in the company of cats and dogs. For a few minutes, they even fawned over him since he was the newest addition to the café staff, however, he couldn’t help but feel like they were interrogating him about his school and family life and not just asking innocuous questions out of curiosity. 

When they didn’t have to worry about orders, serving and cleaning tables, Harry and Ana Maria talked a bit about themselves.

He kept his side vague, especially his school life and he definitely kept silent about the fact he was a wizard, but he did tell her he was an orphan living with his mother’s sister and her husband and son, but didn’t say anything about the years of neglect and abuse on their part.

In turn, she told him about her parents, Carlos and Juana, and her life in Spain. She was from Alcalá de Henares, a city known to be the birthplace of the famous Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes and Catherine of Aragon, the first wife of Henry VIII, for its university, Corral of Comedies and Cathedral. They moved to London two years ago, because her father got a business opportunity here in the UK. She told him how difficult it was for her to move not just houses, but countries as well. How horrible and lonely she felt here in London with no friends and not even a basic knowledge of English.

“The most difficult part for me was passing my school exams, _porque tuve problemas con el ingl_ _és_. I still have _problemas_ when speaking, reading, and writing. _No sé por qu_ _é el inglés tiene que ser tan complicado_ , but sometimes I see a word written and I don’t know how to pronounce it, or I know how to say something, but I don’t know how to spell it. _Es una pesadilla, te digo_. Anyway, because I was _mierda_ at English and I was in my last year of high school, I was _muy preocupada_ that I would have to repeat a year. I remember _que_ after class _tuve que ir a una escuela de lenguas_ from Monday to Friday for an hour to learn English on the side, _porque_ I didn’t speak it at home with my parents, e _incluso as_ _í_ , I barely passed all of them and graduated. After that, I was like ‘ _no_ , I’m not studying until I get better at English’ and I somehow found this place and fell in love with it and Victoria was _muy amable_ to give me a job so I could listen to people and learn how to communicate in English better.”

The more she talked in Spanglish, the more he got used to all the switches in her speech and it wasn’t as jarring as it was at first. Given that she was a Spanish native and he wanted to learn a foreign language, Harry got an idea.

“Ana Maria,” he said to her just before his shift ended.

“ _S_ _í, dime_.”

“I was wondering if you would be willing to teach me Spanish. I really want to learn a foreign language and I really like how Spanish sounds, but I can’t go to a language school, because I go to a boarding school.”

“ _Sí, claro, por supuesto, con mucho gusto_ ,” she said excitedly.

“I will pay you and it can be once a week for either 60 or 90 minutes, whenever you’re free.”

“I don’t mind either, but I would feel bad taking money from you,” she said, grimacing.

“And I would feel bad not paying you at least 10 pounds for your time and effort,” countered Harry. It would be extra expenses for him and his tight budget, but it was only fair that he paid her.

She sighed and knitted her brows together. Then, suddenly, she gasped and her face illuminated. “¿ _Sabes qu_ _é podemos hacer_ , Harry?”

“No, what?”

“What if, instead of paying me in money, you pay me by giving me English lessons and help me improve my English skills? ¿ _Qu_ _é dices_?”

He smiled. “I like that.”

“And we can have our lessons at a Spanish restaurant,” she said happily. “Say, have you tried Spanish food already?”

He thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think I have.”

She gasped, scandalised. “Blasphemy,” she breathed. “ _Tienes que probar al menos la comida m_ _á_ _s típica de Espa_ _ñ_ _a como la paella valenciana, la tortilla de papas, gazpacho, churros con chocolate, leche frita, flan …_ ”

She would have gone on, but Harry didn’t catch a thing, because in her excitement she was speaking really fast and in Spanish, a very bad combination. “Um … in English, please.”

“Sorry, what I was saying, you have to try some of typical Spanish dishes,” then, she proceeded to explain in detail what each dish looked like. However, when she mentioned fried milk, Harry’s brain short-circuited.

“Fried milk?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yes,” she nodded, all serious.

Fried milk … Milk that is fried … Harry squinted, trying to imagine in what scenario it would be possible to fry a liquid. Maybe if you freeze it first and then coat it in flour and eggs? But can you even freeze milk evenly without getting any sort of separation? He would have to experiment apparently and find out.

“How does one fry milk?”

When she explained the process and the consistency, it made perfect sense and he felt slightly stupid. Of course, they were going to make it into something dense and cream-like, there was such a thing as sweetened condensed milk and custard cream after all.

Sometimes the most obvious solution is the last thing on your mind.

At exactly one o’clock, he changed out of his uniform, said goodbye to Ana Maria and headed to Gringotts to see if they had his papers in order and if Voldemort had answered to his letter by now. As expected, aside from his papers, there was no reply from Mortelo Vrdold.

Letting out a sigh, Harry thanked the goblin, had a meal at a nearby pizzeria, and returned to Privet Drive, where he wrote a reply to Snape’s reply.

…

The first thing he did when he arrived to his job at the post office was meet up with the director to show him the papers and sign the part-time employment contract for minors.

When the bureaucracy seemed in order, he joined some of his colleagues in sorting the post, which lasted for about an hour, then loaded his post cart with the letters and packages addressed to the streets he was covering and set out to deliver them to their respective addressees.

It felt nice walking around at his own pace, delivering the post, getting some exercise and fresh air … for about an hour and a half, then the sun started scorching again and Harry couldn’t wait to end his shift at eleven and hide into a cooled area or a simple tree shade. He would have to start bringing bottled water with him to work; otherwise, the heat will get to him by the time he was done with his shift.

…

On Friday, he overlapped his shift with Nathan’s so he could get to know him. However, unlike Ana Maria who was open and sociable, Nathan was the exact opposite, at least at first. Quiet, reserved, in his own world inside those headphones he constantly wore over his ears or around his neck and what looked to be a hand-held console in his hands.

He could hear the muffled sound of music coming from his headphones as his eyes were stuck to the screen and his fingers were moving with speed and precision over the buttons. Not wanting to intrude on him, he tried to make himself as invisible as possible, picking up his uniform to go and change in the bathroom.

However, when the fighting in the game stopped, Nathan looked up, noticed him and greeted him. “Oh, hey.” He placed his headphones around his neck.

“Hey,” he said back.

“How was Wednesday?”

“It was good, not too many customers, Ana Maria showed me around and I successfully operated the coffee machine.”

“Nice.”

“However, I wasn’t prepared for the interrogation by old ladies and animal ears,” grimaced Harry.

Nathan laughed. “Ah, yes, the famous animal ears, or should I say infamous. We implemented them last year after we celebrated the café’s anniversary. The customers really enjoyed them so; my aunt made them a weekly thing. Which ones did you choose?”

“The dog ones.”

“I usually go for cat ears, because they aren’t flappy and they don’t clash with my headphones.”

“I see.” A moment later, Harry excused himself to go and change in the bathroom.

“Of course,” said Nathan, “no problem.”

When Harry returned after a few minutes, he found Nathan engrossed in another monster fight. Nathan, noticing his interest, asked him, “Do you play videogames?”

“Uh … not really. Not because I don’t want to, but I never got the chance to.”

“Would you like to try?”

The fighting and the monsters looked intimidating. “Um …” he swallowed hard. “I don’t really know how it works.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll show you.” He gestured for Harry to sit next to him and handed him over the console. Even holding the console felt intimidating.

“Okay, so, the game is called Bayonetta 2. It’s an action, hack and slash game, which means that while you also do traversal, the focus of the game is on fighting and it’s not just mindless spamming of the same buttons, but it puts a lot of emphasis on combos and style and timing and dodging. So, the more variety you have while fighting, the higher your final grade will be. Suffering damage, using items, or spending too much time on a level will lower your grade at the end of the level.”

He restarted the level and navigated Harry through the controls, the items, his health bar, his magic metre, and the combos. Despite the guidance, Harry struggled in fights and incurred quite a bit of damage. When he got to the boss at the end of the level, he didn’t want to play it anymore.

“But you’re right at the end,” encouraged him Nathan. “You can do it.”

“Do you see how big it is?”

“Don’t let the size intimidate you. Dodge when you see an incoming attack and when you’re not close enough to deal melee damage, use the guns to keep up your combo and filling your magic metre and, as soon as the magic metre is full, use the Umbran Climax to deal lots of damage and to refill your health bar.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” countered Harry. “You have lots of experience with boss fights, I’m a complete beginner.”

However, even with all that protesting, he still engaged in the fight, almost died more than a couple of times, but managed to defeat the boss by the end. He let out a long-suffering sigh, his hands completely sweaty from holding the console and spamming the buttons and his heart racing in his chest.

“Here, you can have this back,” he handed over the console to Nathan.

“You got a bronze medal. Better than stone anyway. See,” said Nathan, “that wasn’t so bad. It’s just a matter of practice.”

“I think I’ll stay away from these kinds of games,” grimaced Harry.

“Then what kind of games would appeal to you?”

“Something that isn’t violent and if it already has violence, I don’t want it to be the focus or over-the-top.”

A pensive expression settled on Nathan’s face. “Well, I suppose Pokémon, Super Mario and Mario Cart 8 would suit you. What about solving puzzles, doing investigative work?”

“That could be interesting too.”

“If you don’t have to be somewhere after your shift, I’ll show you the games I have upstairs in my room.”

“You live here?” asked Harry, wide-eyed.

“Yeah, it’s closer to the university.”

They started their shift. Harry refilled the animal bowls with cat and dog treats and water, while Nathan greeted their first customers. While there were still many elderly people, there were some children too, who have come with their friends to play with animals while having ice tea and lemonade.

Compared to Wednesday, there was more traffic, but still not overwhelming, and the people took at least an hour before asking for a receipt. They alternated between taking orders, serving, and cleaning tables, glasses and cups. When Harry’s shift ended, Victoria came around to check up on him.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Splendid.” She pulled out an envelope and handed it to him. “Here, your payment for this week, forty pounds. I also have a rudimentary contract for you to sign, so that the authorities don’t come knocking on my door for having an illegally employed minor working at my café.”

Harry signed the contract and took a copy himself.

“Say, any progress on the mobile phone?”

“I’m going to buy it tomorrow,” he said, smiling.

“Good. The sooner, the better.”

Instead of going back to Privet Drive, Harry went for lunch to a nearby Chinese restaurant with relatively cheap prices, then came back to the café, took the dogs out for a walk and then, simply waited for Nathan to finish his shift at three o’clock.

In the meantime, Ana Maria also came to get ready to start her afternoon shift. “Oh, Harry.” She greeted him. “ _¡Qu_ _é sorpresa!_ What are you doing here? I thought your shift already ended.”

“I did finish, but I’m waiting for Nathan to finish his so he can show me his videogames,” explained Harry.

“Ah,” she breathed, “ _ya veo_. Well, enjoy yourselves.”

“Thank you.”

After Ana Maria changed into her uniform, Harry took the last five minutes before the shift change to arrange the day and time of his Spanish and English lessons with Ana Maria. They agreed to meet every Tuesday and Thursday, Tuesdays would be reserved for Spanish lessons and Thursdays for English lessons. Each would last for 90 minutes starting at 15:30, at the nearby Spanish restaurant.

…

“Make yourself comfortable,” told him Nathan, when they entered his room. It was somewhat tidy, with the desk covered in bulky books and papers and the space where the TV was, littered in videogame casings and other consoles. His shelves were either full of university books or figurines. There in the corner was an electric guitar.

Harry sat on the bed, while Nathan went to his videogame collection and started browsing it to find games that would appeal to Harry.

“Do you play the guitar?” asked Harry.

“I do,” he said with his back turned. “My friends and I have a band, we gather every Saturday and Sunday to practice and sometimes we perform in bars with live music on Friday and Saturday evenings to earn extra money.”

“Sounds awesome,” said Harry, impressed.

“It is, but the band is more of a hobby, and while I adore music, I enjoy programming and playing videogames more.”

“I really want to learn how to play an instrument, but I don’t have the money to afford one and I don’t want to bother the neighbours with the noise.”

“Have you thought of going to a music school?”

“I have, but I study at a boarding school so, most of the year, I’m away.”

“Boarding school? And where do you board?”

“In Scotland, and as much as I would love to tell you the school name it’s a really long and complicated one.”

“Well, if you want, I can give you some rudimentary music lessons, but I only know how to play the guitar, anything fancier, like the piano or the violin, is out of my zone.”

“Really?” breathed Harry moved. “You would take the time to teach me?”

“Sure, why not,” he said as if it was obvious. “We would just need to find a time slot and we can start this upcoming week if you want.”

Nathan came back with at least 20 games. Most of them were Pokémon or something to do with Mario, but there were also a few Sherlock Holmes and Lara Croft/Tomb Raider games too.

“This one has a bit of shooting in it,” he said in regards to Tomb Raider, “but the older titles focus on killing animals and not that many people. The reboot from 2013, on the other hand, has more human enemies than animal ones, but what matters in these games is exploration and solving puzzles to advance the game, recovering artefacts and such.”

“I’ll give it a go,” said Harry.

Harry tried five different games: a Pokémon game, a classical Super Mario game, Mario Kart 8, a Sherlock Holmes game and a Tomb Raider game. He gave each game a 30-minute trial. He liked all of them, but surprisingly he enjoyed Tomb Raider 2013 the most. Mostly because of the main character. For some reason, Lara reminded him of himself. She was young and inexperienced, almost naïve and innocent, thrust in a world where the nature and the inhabitants of the island constantly tried to take her life. Yet, despite the odds being against her, she managed to live through it, just like how he managed to survive three separate encounters with Voldemort against all odds. She was a survivor, forced to become a killer, and while his hands were still clean, it wasn’t a stretch to say that if his feud with Voldemort continued, he would be forced to kill just like Lara … and he didn’t want that.

Besides, she was also very good-looking and while he had never paid attention to anything remotely sexual, he could appreciate her curves, her skin (even when covered in mud and blood, and marred with scars), her hair, her voice, and her eyes.

While they were playing, aside from agreeing to spend Monday mornings from 10:30 to 11:30 having guitar lessons for 10 pounds, Harry also learned a new expression: _waifu_. Apparently, it was the Japanese pronunciation of the English word wife, and it was usually used to refer to a fictional female character that you considered wife material. The male equivalent was _husbando_.

Nathan had an entire harem of videogame _waifus_ and _husbandos_. “But if I had to pick my favourite from each one, then I would say that Bayonetta is my best waifu and Haytham Kenway from Assassin’s Creed III is my best husbando.”

“Well, then I guess my best and only waifu would be Lara Croft,” retorted Harry.

“No husbando?”

“No,” deadpanned Harry. “Though if I _had_ to pick one, then I would say Sherlock Holmes, because he’s smarter than I will ever be and I like the way he talks, but I’m sticking to Lara Croft.”

“What about Princess Peach?”

“Too blonde and too whiny for me. If every classic Super Mario game has her kidnapped by the same person, I’m sorry, but I don’t have the patience to deal with her. You would think she would learn her lesson and get better security, but no, Bowser always seems to find a way to breach the castle and take her with him.”

Nathan burst into laughter.

…

After he finished his post delivery on Saturday, he received another 40 pounds for his salary and Vernon accompanied him to a phone shop, where he finally got his cheap Nokia phone and a 12-month phone deal. While Vernon paid upfront at the store, the money was added to his rent, of course. The problem was that he didn’t have enough earned money to cover his expenses for the first week, so, he would need to invest all of his earnings next week into getting even with his relatives, and even then, he wasn’t sure if he would have enough to get even. He could add a bit from the money he converted, but taking too much from that pile would rouse suspicions and he didn’t want his relatives knowing about his vault filled with heaps of wizarding money.

He wrote another short letter to Ron and Hermione on Sunday, telling them about his first week at work, his co-workers and bosses, his mobile phone, and that he hoped they were okay. He even gave Hermione his phone number in case she wanted to call him or send him a text message if owl post was too time-consuming.

Then, he spent the entire day reading the books that Mrs. Nightingale lent him and texted his bosses his phone number for any emergencies and arranged two 60-minute counselling sessions per week with Mrs. Nightingale, one on Wednesday at 15:30 and one on Friday at the same time. He even received two text messages; one from Nathan and one from Ana Maria, and added their numbers to his contacts list.

There was still no reply from Voldemort. However, on Monday, after he was done for the day with guitar lessons and work, Harry received a message from Gringotts informing him of a letter waiting for him.

He couldn’t believe it. Voldemort actually replied.

Something must be terribly wrong with the world apparently, because the two people he didn’t count on replying replied and the two people that he counted on replying didn’t reply … not once. And they were supposed to be his friends.

Again, he told himself that they must be busy, but a heavy feeling spread in his chest. He could try a third time, but if they didn’t reply the first two times, then they probably won’t reply a third time.

Resolute, he decided to focus on his jobs and on forging new friendships. It would do him good to have friends that didn’t know about his fame or his feud with Voldemort, friends that didn’t have anything to do with magic, friends with whom he could be himself and who didn’t expect impossible things from him. Friends with whom he could just be Harry.


	6. Of Dark Lords, Animal Cafés & Peace Treaties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arranges a meeting with Voldemort, has his first Spanish lesson with Ana Maria, and writes to Sirius about what he's been up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the chapter! 🤗💕

Harry travelled to London the next day after finishing his shift at the post office. While he waited for Ana Maria to finish her shift at three, he went to Gringotts to read Voldemort’s reply. It was short and straightforward.

 _Very well, Harry Potter, I accept meeting up with you in an attempt to negotiate a ceasefire between us, though I am still not quite certain about your intentions behind such proposition. Because, while your words may have been true, I don’t trust you. I won’t trust you until there’s a magically binding contract of non-aggression and non-killing_ _drawn between you and me._

_I will wait for you to communicate the day and time when it will be most suitable for us to meet._

_Lord Voldemort_

Harry heaved a sigh. At least the man was willing to meet and actually discuss terms of the truce in a non-violent way, something he didn’t really anticipate what with their history and the man’s personality and temper.

He wrote back, but struggled with finding the right time and date. His schedule was already full this week and the following week he could only really squeeze him between his shift and his counselling session on Wednesday, because he had already agreed to meet Professor Snape around the same time the following Friday at the café.

With that in mind, Harry arranged a meeting with Voldemort on Wednesday, 15 July, at one o’clock sharp, at the café. Because he was certain that Voldemort didn’t know about the café, he also provided him with an address, some general directions and a picture of the café’s exterior. The last thing he wanted was for their negotiations to fall apart even before they began because Voldemort got lost. He also warned him about the place being located in the muggle London and politely asked him not to cause any mess at his workplace. Just like how he didn’t want Voldemort getting lost, he also didn’t want to lose his job, because said Dark Lord couldn’t control his impulses and hatred towards muggles long enough to have a civil conversation in a place full of muggles.

…

Harry’s first Spanish lesson was a blast. Ana Maria taught him the Spanish alphabet, some pronunciation rules so he could pronounce words as accurately as possible. He also learned how to count to twenty, how to greet someone formally and informally, and how to introduce yourself in formal and informal settings … and he learned all that while also nibbling on the traditional Spanish paella from Valencia and listening to simple and catchy Spanish children educational songs.

To practice the greetings and the introduction portion of the lesson, they role-played a few simple conversations and she prepared a couple of worksheets where he had to fill out the gaps with greetings and some personal information, or match Spanish expressions with English ones.

To practice the numbers they played a round of bingo and a few rounds of a modified version of the card game called War where the number on the card had to match the number you were saying for you to be able to collect the cards in the middle. Since the cards could only go to the king, they could only practice numbers from one (ace) to thirteen (king). The winner was the one who managed to collect all the cards.

Before the session ended, she gave him homework to spell some basic Spanish words and do some basic math in Spanish and, unlike school assignments; he actually looked forward to doing his Spanish homework, which reminded him … he had to do his Hogwarts summer homework. Oh, well, he still had time until September.

Oh, and at the end of his lesson, Ana Maria awarded him a sticker. In fact, he could choose a sticker that he liked the most from an entire collection of stickers. Harry felt over the moon because of it.

“You will be able to choose one at the end of each session, to reward your effort,” she told him, after he picked a tiger sticker and put it on the inside cover of his notebook.

…

_Dear Snuffles,_

_I’m sorry for not writing to you sooner, but I was slightly busy with sorting out my life. I’m still busy with all the things I’ve put on my schedule, but I finally found some time to sit down and write to you about what I’ve been up to for the past week or so._

_I managed to negotiate some semblance of peace and quiet at the Dursleys in exchange for money. While I have access to my Gringotts account and the money inside, I still wanted to earn my own money by doing summer part-time jobs. I managed to find two: one at the local post office and the other at the Fluffy Paradise animal café in London, about twenty minutes on foot from Diagon Alley. I work Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at the café as a waiter and Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays as a delivery boy for the post office. I don’t earn much, because my shifts are only four hours long and the child employment legislation doesn’t let me work more than that at once, but even 120 pounds a week is something (I think this makes it roughly 24 galleons). However, I think I may have underestimated the cost of travelling expanses and dining in restaurants, because just last Monday I withdrew 150 pounds, and I already dropped below 100. I think I’ll have to make another withdrawal from Gringotts sometime next week. Not to mention, I already have a debt with the Dursleys. While I could pay the rest of my debt by taking from the muggle money I withdrew from Gringotts, I don’t want to tip them off that I might have a reserve of magical money. They would just look for ways to make me pay them more than I’m already paying them weekly._

_On another, much happier, note, I met some super nice people at the café. The owner looks stern and like a muggle version of Professor McGonagall just without glasses and the ability to turn into a cat, though given that she runs an animal café filled with cats and dogs, she compensates for that, I guess. My co-workers, on the other hand, are much more approachable, especially Ana Maria, she really likes to talk a lot, most of it is in Spanglish, because she comes from Spain and she still struggles with English, but Nathan can also be very talkative when it comes to videogames, programming and music. He even lets me play videogames and is giving me some guitar lessons on Mondays, and Ana Maria is giving me Spanish lessons on Tuesdays at a Spanish restaurant. In fact, today was my first Spanish lesson and my first time eating Spanish paella and it was delicious. It had rice with rabbit and chicken meat, together with some green beans and tomato, and I got my first sticker too as a reward for being a good student. To pay her back, I’m giving her English classes on Thursdays. This week will be my first time being a teacher to someone, and I’m really nervous._

_From this week forward, I’m also going to be seeing a counsellor every Wednesday and Friday to deal with what looks to be some sort of PTSD, because of Cedric’s death and because I don’t know how to deal with it properly. I thought being constantly busy would help keep my mind away from depressing thoughts and bad dreams and so far I think it’s working, but I’m only putting it aside, burying it somewhere deep inside, without resolving anything. I’m not working through my emotions, that’s why I contacted my former school counsellor from when I was attending muggle primary school and asked her if she was available. She agreed and I hope to get in order before September._

_And you? How are you doing? I hope you’re doing okay. Although I think if we could somehow find a way to get you out in the public in some sort of disguise, you could use some counselling too for all those years of trauma that you had to go through in Azkaban and being cooped up somewhere is probably giving you flashbacks to that time._

_I hope to see you again soon._

_Your godson Harry_

…

The Spanish songs from the day before were so stuck in his mind, that he was humming their melodies throughout the day, while doing his best to recall the lyrics to practice what he learnt yesterday.

After he finished his shift and was about to head out to some cheap place to eat, he spotted Sirius in his dog form near the café, sniffing the ground.

“Sirius!” he exclaimed under his breath. The dog immediately reacted and whipped his head towards him, barked and hurried toward him, almost knocking him over in his hurry to greet him. Harry caught him and hugged him to his torso, letting him lick his face, not paying the passers-by any attention.

“I’m happy to see you too, Sirius,” he whispered as he nuzzled the dog’s neck, because while he didn’t receive a reply to his letter from Sirius this morning, he was really happy to see him in person.

“Come,” he beckoned him to follow him, “let’s go to some place with less people, so we can talk.”

Sirius nodded and barked in agreement. “But first,” said Harry, “I’m starving. Let’s go get something to eat. What do you say we get a sandwich?” Sirius barked again, while his tail was wagging happily and energetically from side to side.

They went to the nearest Subway and Harry ordered a foot-long tuna sandwich that he asked to be cut in half, so he could share it with Sirius. Then, they walked to a deserted alley, where Sirius transformed into his human form and greeting him again, by pulling him into a bear hug and covering the top of his head in kisses.

“Oh, I missed you so much, Harry. You have no idea how much.” He loosened the hug, but kept his hold on his shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your letter immediately. Dumbledore and his associates have forbidden any interaction with you for fear of communication being intercepted by Voldemort’s followers,” he said gravely.

Harry’s chest felt heavy. He understood why Dumbledore would forbid Sirius from contacting him, but was it necessary to cut him off from his loved ones completely for the sake of safety?

“The order has practically moved to Grimmauld Place and is constantly breathing down my neck, because of Voldemort’s return even more so. Molly is by far the worst, acting as if she owns the place, constantly nagging at me in my own house.” He scowled and groaned. “I swear sometimes I think she’s just as bad as my mother and that’s saying something.”

“Mrs. Weasley is at your house?” If she was there, then Ron was also there. “Is Ron there too?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Him and Hermione both.”

“Oh,” was all he could say, while numbness settled in the pit of his stomach and chest.

Both of his friends were living with Sirius while he, who was Sirius’ godson, was denied that honour and joy. A spark of resentment blossomed in Harry’s chest at the unfairness of the situation. 

“They also wanted to write you back, but they had to comply with Dumbledore’s orders.”

Harry gave a very curt nod.

“If Dumbledore is keeping an eye on you, how did you manage to sneak out to see me then?” he asked, intrigued.

“I convinced Moony to cover for me and help me create an opening, so I could get out of that wretched house and come see you,” he explained with a smile.

“And how did you find me?”

“Well, I tried to take all the clues you left me in the letter into account and since I’m a dog, I have a sensitive nose, so I was trying to pick up a trace of your scent among millions of others. It helps that my dog brain knows how you smell, pup, otherwise, it would have been almost impossible to find you.”

Harry smiled and the resentment disappeared to give way to pure joy. It made him feel extremely happy knowing his godfather was willing to defy Dumbledore himself just for him, even if his friends weren’t.

Harry’s stomach grumbled and Sirius let out a boisterous laughter. “Come, pup,” he said, his arm still around his godson’s shoulders, “let’s go find a bench to sit on and eat that tuna sandwich you bought.”

They found a nice, relatively quiet place to sit and eat. Sirius wanted to know more about the things Harry mentioned in his letter and Harry was happy to oblige. He left out anything related to Snape and Voldemort … for obvious reasons. That included finding out about being Voldemort’s horcrux too.

After they finished eating, Harry had roughly an hour and a half until his counselling session with Mrs. Nightingale. Before that, he had to go to the library to make copies of some short stories for tomorrow’s English session with Ana Maria. Sirius accompanied him. He even accompanied him to Mrs. Nightingale’s place, but had to go soon afterwards, because he wasn’t sure how much longer Moony could hold up the fort for him and he really didn’t want to hear another lecture about proper behaviour from Mrs. Weasley.

“When will I see you again?” wondered Harry, feeling dejected saying goodbye to his godfather.

“Soon, Harry,” he assured him. “Sooner than you might think.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about such an enigmatic answer, he only hoped Sirius didn’t decide to visit next Wednesday or Friday, because he wasn’t ready for the Armageddon that would ensue from Sirius learning about him meeting Voldemort and Professor Snape for a glass of ice tea at his workplace.

….

Voldemort stood in front of the _Fluffy Paradise_ animal café, looking at the exterior he was seeing and the one in the picture Potter sent him with his reply letter. He arrived fifteen minutes earlier than agreed to make sure he wasn’t late because he spent too much time searching for the damned place.

He sneered and grimaced at the building. Why was the Boy-Who-Lived working as a bloody muggle waiter at a bloody muggle café with cats and dogs? With his fame, he could have been doing something more worthy, not wait on the filth that were muggles. Well, he supposed he couldn’t really say anything, given that he worked in a dingy antiquity shop with dark artefacts on Knockturn Alley on his own volition, when he could have fake-smiled and charmed his way to the position of Minister for Magic.

Still, working at Borgin and Burkes helped him gain further knowledge on dark artefacts. What will Potter learn? How to prepare coffee and other drinks? How was that useful in the grand scheme of things?

Oh, and the nerve of the brat to request him, Lord Voldemort, the greatest Dark Lord and wizard in the history of human kind, to behave himself in the presence of _muggles_. Because he didn’t want to lose his job. Was he pulling his leg or what?

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the task ahead. He walked towards the entrance and opened the door. The hanging bells announced his arrival. Almost immediately, Harry Potter came to greet and escort him to a free table.

Voldemort stared at the top of the boy’s head. What were those? Animal ears? Not only was he working at an animal café, now he was also dressing like an animal?

“Uh … sir?” he said again.

“It’s me, Potter,” he gritted out under his breath.

The boy looked him in confusion. “Who?”

“You know exactly who,” he snarled, piercing him with a glare.

“Oh,” he said, while his eyes widened in recognition. “Right, um … I didn’t recognise you … but I guess it makes sense to come looking not like your usual self.” The boy let out a nervous giggle and scratched the back of his head. “Anyway, you’re a bit early. I am still working for the next ten or so minutes, but make yourself comfortable and feel free to order anything from the menu.”

Voldemort finally followed him to the table, where a white cat with light brown accents was lounging on one of the chairs. It looked at him with its sharp blue eyes.

“Feel free to pet Tinker Bell,” said Harry, taking out his spiral notebook for taking orders, “or if you wish, you can even put her on your lap, she’s a very docile species, doesn’t mind petting and dogs.”

Apparently, that won’t be necessary, since the cat decided to jump on his lap on its own and Voldemort froze, not knowing what to do. The animal scented him and decided he was trustworthy enough to make him her bed pillow.

Harry just stared at the display, before the voice of an elderly woman called out to him.

“Harry, we would like our receipt, please.”

Harry snapped out of his bewilderment. “At once, madam,” he called to the woman with a smile, before turning back to him. “Here’s the menu with all the drinks you can order. Also, read the house rules in regards to conduct and treatment of animals. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

With that, he left him to the mercy of Tinker Bell and four dogs, who came sniffing at him. He glanced at Potter and saw him at the till typing something, and then going to the table with the old women to collect their money. The boy was smiling politely, but all Voldemort could see were those damned cat ears on the boy’s head.

He finally picked up the menu to have a look. The first thing he noticed was the biographical information about the animals at the establishment. Second, he saw the list of café rules. It was short and concise. Then came the enormous amount of cold and hot drinks you could order. For the most part, there was a brief description of what was included in a drink, but not when it came to coffees. There were twelve different coffees available and he had absolutely no bloody clue what was the difference between an Espresso and a Macchiato or a Mocha and a Cappuccino or even what was the difference between Long and Short Macchiato.

“Have you already decided what you would like to drink?” Harry’s voice startled him a bit and brought him out of his menu contemplation.

“Maybe if I had any idea what the difference between all the types of coffee is, I would have, but as it happens I have no bloody clue what to order,” he grumbled.

“I know what you mean,” he said sympathetically, “it took me almost two weeks to get the differences and the preparation of each one right, but if you’d like, I can explain briefly each one or just tell me how you usually drink your coffee and I will serve it to you according to your wishes,” said Harry, smiling.

“I usually drink coffee with no sugar and no milk. I like it black and bitter.”

“Okay, then, I think you would be looking for an Espresso, Double Espresso, Ristretto or an Americano,” said the boy. “The only difference between an Espresso and a Double Espresso is the number of espresso shots in a cup, so in a normal one you get one shot of espresso in an espresso cup, while in the other; you get two shots of espresso in the same cup. Espresso tends to be bitter, but, if you want to make it even more bitter, then Ristretto would be the answer, since it extracts espresso with half the amount of water than usual. Americano or Long Black, on the other hand, is a slightly less concentrated version of both Ristretto and Espresso, since two thirds of the cup are filled with hot water and then you add a shot of espresso over it.”

Voldemort just stared at the boy with a dead stare. For some reason, hearing Harry speak about different types of coffees was making him unusually tired and he felt like his brain hurt from all the trivial information. “Get me an Espresso, then,” he said, maybe its bitterness will wake him up a bit.

“Right away,” he said and left.

Voldemort followed him with his eyes and noticed Harry start an animated conversation with a girl, while he worked the machine. The girl was waving a lot with her hands as she talked and Harry even laughed a couple of times at whatever she was saying. His eyes narrowed. How could Potter be so comfortable around muggles, when they were nothing but disgusting insects that needed to be squashed?

A movement on the table interrupted his observation, when he glanced toward it; he saw a wild-looking black cat with piercing yellow eyes staring at him.

What was with all the animals at this place? Why were all flocking toward him? Although, to be fair, the dogs lost their interest when he did nothing but ignore them. However, the cat from before was still on his lap, practically sleeping, and this black one ‘Plop’ was trying to get his attention as well.

“ _What do you want?_ ” he hissed under his breath in parseltongue. Plop remained unfazed and just sat on the table, looking at him expectantly. He let out a gentle meow.

“I don’t speak cat,” he said. Another meow.

He noticed a stick with feathers on the neighbouring table. He stretched to reach for the toy. The cat immediately focussed in on the feathers. He smirked. Before he did anything, Harry placed the coffee cup in front of him.

Voldemort tensed. He glanced at Potter as nonchalantly as he could. He was smiling and Voldemort didn’t know if he saw him pick up the cat toy or not. It wouldn’t do well for his image as the Dark Lord if he was seen playing with a cat, even if the only person to see and recognise him was supposed to be his arch nemesis, Harry Potter.

Now that he thought about it, he was seriously questioning that. His eyes went to Harry’s cat ears. How in the world was this boy supposed to defeat him? Either he made the wrong choice that night so many years ago or the bitch who made the prophecy made it under the influence of alcohol or drugs. Probably the latter.

“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” he told him, “I’m just going to change out of my uniform. If you need anything while I’m gone, feel free to ask Ana Maria.”

He nodded curtly and watched him go through the back door. He glanced at the woman to see if she was looking or not and once he was sure she was busy washing and drying glasses and cups, he turned to Plop and wiggled with the feathered part of the toy on the floor. The cat immediately jumped down and started pawing and biting at the toy. He repeated the motion a few times, held it slightly higher, but was restricted from doing too much by Tinker Bell.

Every few seconds he glanced towards the muggle girl and the door to see if Harry would walk through them any moment, then, decided the cat had enough playtime and straightened in his seat and drank from the cup.

Plop meowed in protest and began pawing at his leg, but he ignored him. He was not risking embarrassment just to satisfy a cat’s need. It was already humiliating enough to be seen with a cat on his lap. Nagini at least made him look frightening, Tinker Bell made him look soft. Yet, he still somehow ended petting her. He felt something brush against his leg and he saw Plop rubbing his body against him. He let out a sigh.

Less than a minute later, Harry joined him finally looking normal. “Sorry for the wait,” he said breathlessly, sitting down opposite him. The group of dogs followed him and he picked up the white and the fluffiest one and cuddled him. “Ah,” sighed Harry, resting his cheek in the softness of the fur, “this is the perfect balm for my tired body and soul,” he said.

“Harry,” the muggle girl called from the till, “ _quieres que te traiga algo de beber_?”

“What?” called Harry back in a loud voice.

“Do you want me to bring you something to drink?”

“Paradise ice tea, please.” He turned to him. “Okay, we need to make this quick, because I still need to eat something and then at half past three I have another appointment somewhere else in London.” He sighed. “As I said, I’m very busy this summer.”

“Very well.”

“So …,” he began awkwardly, Tinker Bell was purring loudly. “What I wanted to talk about. I basically already told you what I want and that’s a guarantee that you will not harm me or attempt to kill me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be a normal teenager.” He said tentatively.

The girl interrupted them with Harry’s ice tea. “ _Aqu_ _í_ _tienes_ , Harry.”

“ _Gracias,_ _Ana,_ ” he said.

“ _De nada_.” She smiled at him.

Voldemort said nothing about the exchange, though he was surprised to hear Harry speak in a foreign language.

Harry took a sip from his drink and continued where he left off. “I want to live and study without constantly having to fear for my life. There is no trap or ulterior motives behind my request, just pure survival instinct and desire to live. I know you’re not the only person or thing that can kill me, but you _are_ the only person, at the moment, who is _actively_ trying to murder me. I don’t know about you, but I would think trying to get rid of me has been really time-consuming and taxing for you as well. So, I think it would benefit us both if we declared ceasefire for good. That way, we both win. I get to live, and you get to focus on other things. However, I would like to ask you why exactly you have targeted me in the first place. Is there a particular reason or you just needed someone to kill and I just so happened to fulfil certain criteria?”

Voldemort scrutinised him. He used surface legilimency to confirm if the words coming from Harry’s mouth coincided with his thoughts and intentions. They did. That was why it was even more puzzling to him that the boy wasn’t aware of the prophecy between them.

“Didn’t Dumbledore tell you?” he asked.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “No, Dumbledore didn’t tell me why you are after me.”

He took a sip of Espresso. Should he tell him? Either way, by the time they were finished, there would be a magically binding contract between them. Therefore, even if he knew the prophecy, he couldn’t do anything to him, because of the contract.

“There’s a prophecy, Harry. A prophecy between you and me.” Harry’s eyes widened. “I don’t know the entire contents of the prophecy, but the beginning goes something like this: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approach. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … I don’t know how it continues, but those two lines were more than enough for me to do everything in my power to make sure no such individual was alive.”

Harry stared blankly at the table for what felt like an eternity. “And …” he swallowed hard. “You think I am the child of the prophecy?”

“The Longbottom boy could also potentially fit the prophecy requirements … but I chose to go after you.”

Their eyes met. “Why?” The boy couldn’t seem to understand his thought process that night.

“Because you are like me … in a way.” Harry seemed confused. “I told you, didn’t I? That night in the cemetery.” He watched colour disappear from Harry’s face. “We are both half-bloods. I had a muggle father and you had a mudblood mother.” He sneered. “If there was anyone who could rival me in terms of power, then it would be another half-blood, because, as much as I might hate and despise Dumbledore, he’s powerful and he’s a half-blood. For all the claims about blood purity, purebloods are rather … average when it comes to magic, especially the current generations. A disgrace really. Almost as bad as mudbloods and muggles, if you ask me.”

“And … is there a way for us to learn what the entire prophecy says?” asked the boy in a small voice.

“There is, but it’s complicated. There’s a Department at the Ministry that holds all the prophecies ever made. If either you or I could get inside, we could learn what it says.”

“Why does it have to be either you or me? Can’t you just tell Malfoy or any other follower to go fetch it for you?”

He let out a sigh. “Because prophecies in crystal balls can only be touched by the subjects of the prophecy … you and me. The Keeper of Prophecies is the only other person who can touch it without going mad at the contact.”

“Oh.” Harry entertained himself with watching the table and sipping his ice tea. “Is there a way to cancel a prophecy? I mean, does it stop existing if the orb is smashed or is it still in effect?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he admitted. “But I think that having a magically binding contract or an Unbreakable Vow, where all the clauses are stated clearly between you and me, then I would assume the prophecy becomes invalid since neither of us would be able to hurt the other intentionally under any circumstances without facing death themselves.”

Harry nodded. “I like the sound of that. When do we do that?”

“Today, if you’re up for it.” He smirked.

Harry’s expression changed immediately. He let go of the dog he was cradling, stood up, grabbed his glass and started chugging down the liquid. It was enough to make even him stop from taking a sip with the rim of the cup pressed to his lips. Once the boy drained everything, he burped loudly, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’ll pay for our drinks at the till and you finish up your Espresso. We’re leaving for Gringotts, now,” he said assertively and left him alone at the table.

After the shock of witnessing such display wore off, Voldemort finished up his Espresso in one go as well, picked up Tinker Bell and placed her on the seat. Then waited for Harry to join him.

…

They went to the café’s deserted back alley. Harry was immediately wary of his intentions. “Why are we here?” he asked nervously.

“So we can apparate without muggles seeing us disappear into thin air,” explained Voldemort.

“Apparate? What’s that?”

Instead of wasting time explaining it, he held out his arm to Harry. “Let me show you,” he said with a wicked glint in his eyes and a cruel smirk. Harry looked pale again. “Grab tightly onto my arm and don’t let go. I won’t be responsible if you splinch in the process.”

“Splinch?” he croaked in alarm.

He rolled his eyes. “Just grab onto me, Potter,” he snarled impatiently. He swallowed thick, looking apprehensively at his arm, but ultimately grabbed onto his arm and squeezed his eyes.

A second later, they stood in an adjacent alley to Diagon alley closer to Gringotts. Harry collapsed to his knees, heaving. “It’s a good thing I didn’t eat yet, otherwise I would be puking my lunch out.” He squinted up at him. “Is apparition always this rough on the stomach?”

“No, though I suppose it varies from person to person and on whether you’re the one doing the apparating or if you’re the one being apparated. Some never get over the apparition travel sickness and some never even master this means of transport.”

Harry slowly rose to his feet, using the wall as support. He looked at his surroundings. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

“I’m certain,” he smirked.

Harry looked at him with scepticism. “If you say so,” he shrugged.

He started walking towards the main street with Harry in tow. They reached Gringotts in less than a minute and managed to secure a private meeting with Griphook. He enjoyed immensely seeing the goblin’s blood drain from the creature’s face when he revealed his identity to him, because he had to for the sake of the agreement with Harry, but the goblin was sworn to secrecy.

They decided to do both: the contract and the Vow … just to make it even more effective.

There were four points to their agreement with a couple of additional notes:

  1. They were not to attack or kill each other through magical or muggle physical means. (They were allowed to insult each other, but not defame the other.)
  2. They were not to use third parties to eliminate or hurt the other.
  3. They were not to obstruct each other’s plans and lives, meaning that Harry was forbidden to join any organisation that might conspire against Voldemort politically as well as personally (e.g. Order of the Phoenix opposes Voldemort politically and they are actively trying to kill him), while Voldemort was forbidden from interfering and obstructing Harry’s future life plans (e.g. education, job, hobbies, love life), unless they directly conspired against Voldemort.
  4. Neither was obliged to pursue third parties who defamed, spread animosity or committed violent acts against the other and were acting on their own accord (meaning that neither Harry nor Voldemort have in any way or capacity encouraged them directly or indirectly to behave or perpetrate such acts against the other). (e.g. If newspapers are spreading lies and are creating and encouraging animosity either towards Voldemort or Harry, because they simply don’t like either of them, neither Harry nor Voldemort respectively, are obliged to help the other in clearing their name, or pursuing justice.)



Note 1: Should either Voldemort (Tom Marvolo Riddle) or Harry be killed by a third party acting on its own volition, the other is automatically freed from the agreement, since one of the contractors is dead and thus cannot perpetrate acts forbidden in the contract.

Note 2: If Voldemort (Tom Marvolo Riddle) or Harry violates a clause, either wittingly or unwittingly, magic will take their lives as payment for the infringement.

This agreement entered into force immediately.

…

On one of the shelves in the Hall of Prophecies, the crystal ball that holds the record of the prophecy made by Sybill Patricia Trelawney to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore about Dark Lord and Harry Potter cracked and disintegrated on its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending part might be weird to some, because unfulfilled/invalid prophecies in the Hall of Prophecies probably don't disintegrate into thin air, but in this case it's symbolic for both Harry and Voldemort because unless Dumbledore shares the Pensive memory they will never know the contents of the prophecy and I think that's the best for them. They have the contract and the Vow in place, so, the contents of the prophecy are inconsequential and in canon the physical record of the prophecy is smashed by Harry so ... here it disintegrated on its own.
> 
> As for the coffees, I hope I got the descriptions right. I consulted a site to get an idea myself. So, I hope I understood and paraphrased things accurately (the site in question: https://www.latteartguide.com/2016/01/different-types-of-coffee.html)
> 
> For those interested in the songs Harry was listening to in his first Spanish class, here's a list:  
> Alfabeto Español - Canciones Infantiles: https://youtu.be/MhYKuKA0qLo  
> Canción de los saludos: https://youtu.be/-ufDgAnpZsM?t=56  
> Veo Veo - Las Canciones de la Familia Blu: https://youtu.be/klGK7ehiDPg  
> Un Elefante se Balanceaba - Rondas y Clásicos Infantiles : https://youtu.be/MOQR1Ct2Gms


	7. Of Plans & Unpleasant Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Harry as a threat out of Voldemort's way, he can now focus on more important things. However, coming up with a new persona proves to be more difficult than anticipated and after a meeting with his free and marked Death Eaters, he learns of something unpleasant concerning his diary horcrux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains some violence.
> 
> NOTE/DISCLAIMER: This chapter features a counselling session. While I have some basic knowledge of psychology (because it was a requirement for my profession) and a friend with a Master's Degree in the field, I am NOT a licensed professional. I hope that, despite my lack of professional background, I managed to treat the session with respect and some level of accuracy.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! 🤗

“This is where we part ways, Potter,” said Voldemort solemnly when they exited the building.

Harry turned to him, his back straight and head tilted upward to meet the man’s eyes. “For now.”

“For now.”

He held his hand to him. Harry glanced at it, and then reached to shake hands. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

“ _Igualmente_ ,” he returned with a smile, before he realised he said it in Spanish and hurriedly corrected himself. “Uh, I mean likewise. Likewise.”

“I wish you all the best, Potter, with your normal teenage and adult life.” Harry was sure the smile was fake, and the words sounded empty and forced, but he didn’t really care that much about it. After all, the man was being polite and respectful, so he was going to be polite and respectful too.

“Thank you.” He smiled. “And I wish you many personal and political successes as well.”

They let go of their hands, but kept looking at the other. “I trust you will be able to find your way to your next appointment from here.”

“I will,” assured him Harry brightly.

“Then, I will take my leave. Until we meet again, Harry Potter.” One moment Voldemort was in front of him and the next, he disappeared.

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Well, that went better than anticipated. He didn’t expect Voldemort to come disguised as a slightly older version of his teenage self, but he hoped recognition didn’t show on his face, otherwise, he would have had to explain how he knew of his teenage appearance, which would have inevitably led to him having to tell him about the diary and he didn’t want to upset him. At least not until they had the contract and vow in place and he was safe from the man’s wrath once he learned his diary was destroyed.

Though something must have been off about Voldemort’s disguise, because a few minutes into looking at him, the features of his teenage appearance started to melt away, until all he was seeing was the face he had in the graveyard. However, apparently, he was the only one who was seeing him as he was, because no one else was screaming and panicking at the sight of Voldemort.

Apart from hiding his reaction to his appearance and the shift that occurred after several minutes of looking at him, he also made certain not to accidentally reveal any sensitive information like the fact that he could speak to snakes, or that he was a horcrux. If Voldemort knew about his status as a parselmouth and his horcrux, he would probably try to control every aspect of his life, even going as far as deciding what and when he ate and drank, when he went to bed, what he wore, with whom he could hang out, when and where he was allowed to go outside. While Voldemort would probably make sure to keep him safe, he really didn’t want to live his life being told constantly how and when to do the most basic of things. With that no-interference clause in place, he now didn’t have to worry too much about it, even if Voldemort learnt of his horcrux status by chance.

With the agreement in place, he felt better and lighter, as if a giant boulder had fallen off his chest and back. A smile spread across his face and he felt giddy. Then, he remembered that he should probably make his way to Mrs. Nightingale’s place for his counselling session and get ready for tomorrow’s English session with Ana Maria.

…

When Voldemort returned to the Riddle Manor, he was smiling like a maniac. Nagini seemed confused by his good mood, so he told her about his meeting with Harry and the agreement between them.

“ _Now, I have one thing less to worry about,_ ” he hissed excitedly. “ _With the prophecy rendered useless and with Harry out of my way, I can finally focus on other more important things_.”

“ _Such as?_ ” prompted Nagini, intrigued.

“ _Defeating Dumbledore and his Order, of course. Although, before I do that, I think I should make sure all of my horcruxes are where I left them,_ ” he said pensively. “ _And trying to see who is really loyal and who isn’t among my free followers sounds necessary too, especially in regards to Severus Snape. He can say whatever he wants, but I don’t trust him since he is an expert Occlumens, and he could fool me if he really put in the effort. Then, after I’ve gathered enough information about Dumbledore and his Order, I will dispose of any traitors and also free those who are in Azkaban and start negotiating with dark creatures to build an actual army._ ”

“ _Sounds like a solid plan,_ ” commented Nagini. “ _But how exactly are you going to do all of that?_ ”

“ _Checking on horcruxes will be simple, since I know their locations. To spy on Dumbledore and Snape, and to check on my Diadem horcrux, I will infiltrate Hogwarts as a transfer student and use a powerful disguise to fool everyone. Except perhaps a fellow parselmouth, but I’m the only parselmouth in Britain, so there shouldn’t be a problem._ ”

“ _Will you let your followers know about your plan?_ ”

“ _No. I don’t want anyone knowing about what I’m doing._ ”

“ _Then, what are you going to tell your followers about your sudden disappearance?_ ” she wanted to know.

“ _I’ll tell them that I’m going on a holiday to gather my thoughts and formulate the perfect plan to take over magical Britain_ ,” said Voldemort.

“ _And will you take me with you to Hogwarts?_ ”

He smiled at her and petted her head gently. “ _Of course, you are coming with me. You’re my loyal companion and my horcrux, so wherever I go, you go._ ”

She hissed in satisfaction and nuzzled his gaunt and pale cheek affectionately. “ _I love you, my hatchling._ ”

“ _Me too, Nagini._ ”

“ _And what kind of disguise will you use?_ ” she wondered.

“ _I will use my old looks as a base and then modify it enough so that no one who has known Tom Marvolo Riddle will be able to recognise me. Maybe I should go with lighter and shorter hair, different coloured eyes, and freckles even_ ,” he said with a furrowed brow, scratching his chin. “ _Should I also include glasses and facial birthmarks? Maybe even change the shape and size of my nose and mouth._ ”

“ _Depends on what type you want to go for._ ”

“ _I think I want to go for Scandinavian features._ ”

Nagini nodded. “ _And what name will you use?_ ”

“ _It can’t be anything that can be formed from my birth name or otherwise associated with it, and why would I even want to use my boring, muggle name as a base. It’s already enough that I’m using my muggle father’s looks as the base for my disguise. No, it has to be something completely different. Something to go with my ‘Scandinavian’ features_.” He thought about it for a few seconds and a random Scandinavian sounding name popped in his mind. “ _I know what I’ll call myself._ ”

“ _What?_ ”

“ _Felix Hansson._ ”

…

“You seem really happy today, Harry,” commented Mrs. Nightingale amused, upon seeing the brilliant smile on Harry’s face. “Did something good happen?”

He sat in the comfortable sofa and picked up a chocolate. “Yes. Today I invited someone with whom I’ve had a feud for a while now to the café to talk out our differences and make peace and it worked. Now, we’re not fighting anymore and I feel much happier and lighter because of that,” he explained happily, munching on the chocolate.

“I’m really glad to hear that, Harry,” she answered with a smile too. “It takes a lot of maturity to reach out to someone to offer an olive branch and look past the differences to have a symbiotic relationship with the other person.”

Harry smiled brightly at the compliment.

“Speaking of the café … how is work?”

 “It’s good.” He took a sip of the raspberry lemonade. “I finally learnt the differences between all the coffees on the menu and their preparation.”

“That’s amazing.”

Harry’s cheeks heated at the praise. “I still need to look up the recipes for certain items on the menu,” he said embarrassed, “but I know how to prepare most of the drinks. I’m actually really proud of myself,” he said with a shy smile.

“As you should be.”

He grinned into his glass.

“And how is your relationship with your co-workers? Have there been any significant changes in your dynamic with them?”

“At the post office, it’s polite and formal, mostly because they are much older than me and while we do talk occasionally, I mostly keep to myself there,” he admitted. “But I think that I have managed to show them that I’m an honest, hard-working, punctual and trust-worthy person. At the café, Victoria comes by every Friday to give me my paycheck, but she also occasionally comes by to check if I need anything, though if I have any questions or doubts I usually just ask Nathan or Ana Maria. This Monday, Nathan offered to drive me on certain days so I can save on my transport expenses.”

“That is very kind of him, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but I feel bad making him waste all that gasoline for spending extra miles picking me up or driving me back home.”

“He probably offered, because he wants to help you,” assured him Mrs. Nightingale. “I’ve known him for a while and he’s a very generous person, if kind of reserved and living in his own world, who doesn’t mind helping others if they need it. For him, who is working more than one job, longer hours and receiving more money than you, who are working two part-time jobs and have to commute every day to London and Surrey, a few extra miles a week aren’t going to make much of a difference in his paycheck.”

Harry nodded, took a biscuit from the platter and carefully nibbled on it. She smiled.

“And how was your Spanish lesson yesterday? What did you learn with Ana Maria?”

“It was amazing,” he beamed. “The first thirty minutes, we were repeating what I’ve learnt in the previous session, and then she taught me how to count from twenty-one to thirty-one in Spanish, then I learnt the days of the week, the months and the seasons, so I could tell when my birthday is in Spanish. I also learnt colours so I could tell which my favourite colour is and which my least favourite colour is. She prepared many worksheets, but most of it was colouring, naming things, cutting, and gluing. It felt like I was in kindergarten again and I liked that. And I got another sticker at the end for being a diligent student.”

“Oh, and what sticker did you choose this time?”

“A giraffe,” he said brightly. “Oh, and I also tried fried milk for the first time yesterday.”

“Did you like it?”

Harry nodded vigorously. “It was really smooth and creamy, probably not exactly healthy, because it’s fried and it has a lot of sugar in it, but it tasted divine.”

She chuckled, but her face quickly morphed into a serious one. “And how have you been feeling mentally since Friday?”

Harry’s excitement diminished significantly at the question. “I think I’ve been holding up pretty okay. I still try to distract myself from thinking about it most of the time, because if I think too much then that’s all I end up thinking about.” His voice started to shake with emotion and his eyes filled up with tears.

“That’s what happened on Sunday. I had trouble falling asleep and I started thinking about death and dying and how I should have been the one to die, and not Cedric.” His voice broke and tears started falling down his cheeks. He tried to wipe them as they fell, but there were so many tears that he couldn’t keep up with them. “How it’s my fault that he died, because I insisted he accompany me that day, and that if I hadn’t been so adamant he come with me, he would still be alive and that I’m somehow responsible for his death and I end up hating myself so much that I think the world would be a better place without me.”

He was sobbing uncontrollably, snot coming out of his nose and fighting for breath. His chest and throat hurt and he found it hard to swallow. Mrs. Nightingale sat next to him, pulled him into a comforting hug, and gently rocked him.

He let her mother him and even hugged her back, never having experienced such a gentle hug. Mrs. Weasley hugged him, of course, but it was always firm almost suffocating, this one, on the other hand, felt comforting.

“I know it’s not rational or true,” he hiccoughed, “and I don’t want to die, because I’m scared of what happens after it, but sometimes there’s almost like a voice in my head saying all those horrible things.”

Another wave of tears flowed down his cheeks and she offered him an entire box of paper handkerchiefs and waited for him to blow his nose.

“I apologise for crying like this,” he sniffed.

“No, don’t apologise, Harry,” she told him. “Cry if you must. Let it out, even if you need to do it in private. Just don’t bottle up your emotions when it gets too overwhelming or too painful to bear.”

He nodded.

“As for what you’re feeling. I want you to understand that what you’re feeling, Harry, is very common in those who are experiencing survivor’s guilt,” she told him, rubbing his back in soothing circles. “You feel guilty for surviving a traumatic event that resulted in the death of your friend. You blame yourself for his death. That is all part of what you’re going through, but we also have to move past those sort of thoughts and feelings, okay?”

He blew his nose, but nodded in response.

“You told me that you would like to get better by September.” Harry nodded. “Well, we have a little over a month to get you to a good mental place, it might take you longer than that, but, nevertheless, I would like you to do three things from now on whenever you start to feel like you felt on Sunday. One, would your friend, as you knew him, ever blame you for what happened that day?”

Harry shook his head. “No, Cedric probably wouldn’t blame me for it.”

“Use this knowledge to remind yourself that Cedric isn’t angry with you and that he doesn’t blame you for his death.”

Another wave of tears threatened to spill over. He nodded, because he didn’t trust his voice to answer.

“Two, I want you to tell yourself that you _aren’t_ guilty of surviving that ordeal and that you most _definitely_ are _not_ responsible for your friend’s death. The only responsible, the only culprit of Cedric’s death is the person who killed him. No one else.” Her voice was gentle, yet steady, encouraging. “The voice might put up a good fight for a while, but if you keep telling yourself the opposite of what that nasty little bugger is telling you, you will eventually defeat it. It won’t be easy and it might take you more than a handful of tries, but you can get past it.”

“And what’s the third thing?”

She smiled softly at him and pulled him in for another hug. “I want you to love yourself, to take care of yourself. I want you to enjoy life. I want you to tell yourself that you are important, that there are people who love you and care about you: your godfather, your other friends, Nathan, Ana Maria. They might not have been in your life for long, but there’s a bond already.”

Harry burst into tears again, moved that someone would say something like that to him.

“We are still going to work through your grief here in person, but outside of this comfortable room, I want you to work on what I told you to do, okay?”

He nodded, drying his tears.

She sighed. “I know me hugging you is not exactly professional, but sometimes all someone needs is a good hug to feel better.” She looked at the coffee table with the tray full of biscuits and chocolates and picked up one. “And something sweet.”

She offered it to Harry, who accepted it with a shy giggle and puffy red eyes.

…

Voldemort spent the rest of the day working on his disguise, using his travels to Northern Europe as reference, while also coming up with good background information about his new persona.

In the end, he decided to go with light brown hair and a wavy and messy taper hairstyle, where medium length hair on top blended into shorter hair around the sides and back, light-blue eyes, full lips, high forehead, small and narrow nose, and high but not that prominent cheekbones and subtle and sparse freckles. And while there were still some subtle traces of his original face, he was satisfied with his modifications.

“ _What do you think Nagini?_ ” he asked her. She took a good look at him from all sides.

“ _If I hadn’t been watching you go through the transformation, I wouldn’t have guessed it was you,_ ” she concluded.

“ _That means it’s an effective disguise,_ ” he said with a satisfied smirk. “ _Now I just need to work on my personal story and write as soon as possible to Hogwarts to get everything for year five._ ”

“ _Why year five?_ ” she wondered.

“ _It’s easier to be in the same year as Harry,_ ” he said. “ _By being his classmate, I would also be able to keep an eye on him to see how he behaves and if he’s upholding his part of the bargain, though if he breaks it, Magic will know and make sure to punish him._ ”

“ _I see._ ”

He took a piece of parchment and began writing down the biographical information, such as name, which was Felix Hansson, date of birth, which was 13 December 1999, place of birth, which was Gothenburg, Sweden, however his place of residence needed to be somewhere in the UK.

The first problem he encountered was deciding if this new persona was an orphan or if he had parents. After considering all the pros and cons of both, he ultimately decided to go with parents, even though it would require a lot of effort to track down a couple with that specific surname with no existing children to modify their memories into thinking they had a son named Felix for the past fifteen years. At least, he wouldn’t have to worry about the Ministry trying to put him in an orphanage or something equally horrible, and he was having none of that.

With this, he also had another predicament, was this new persona a Pureblood, Half-Blood or Muggleborn. While he wanted to put himself as a Pureblood, there were no pureblooded wizards with the surname Hansson, and while he could make himself a Half-Blood, this would be in common with his original self and he wanted to distance himself from it. Therefore, the only other option left was to make himself into a Mudblood. He might not be thrilled about it, but by being a Mudblood, the school administration wouldn’t be as suspicious of him. 

Then, he had to figure out how to justify him not being in any magical educational system and determine just how much magic this new persona knew. It might be far-fetched, but he could say that his parents didn’t feel comfortable with sending him to a magical boarding school and wanted him to get basic muggle education, while buying him some basic books about magic so he could do some self-study in free-time. However, he wasn’t supposed to know about Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, or have a wand, so he probably got his magic books while still living in Sweden and they were probably written in Swedish, which would imply he knew how to read, write and speak Swedish. It was true that he had learnt many foreign languages during his travels, but it was also true that he was out of practice with most of them, Swedish being one of those languages. Which brought him to the next question, when exactly did he and his family move to Britain?

He sighed. This was getting more complicated by the second. Especially doing it on his own, but if he was able to murder his paternal family without arousing suspicion and framing his maternal uncle for their deaths, then he could very well take care of this without relying on any of his followers.

Maybe he could say they learnt about Hogwarts from a book about magical schools around the world and maybe instead of Swedish magical books, he might have found a few English ones to practice his English or Latin ones too. He was far more familiar with Latin than Swedish anyway. As for how old he was when they moved, twelve seemed like a good age.

As he observed the parchment and his writing, he noticed that his handwriting resembled too much the one he had in school. ‘Another thing to worry about,’ he thought annoyed, ‘developing a new handwriting for Felix Hansson.’

…

The following day, he visited the Malfoy Manor and called for a meeting. Once all of the free marked Death Eaters were gathered around the dining table, he addressed them.

“I will make this brief and clear,” he began softly, “I want you to cease everything you are doing against Harry Potter.”

There was confusion on their faces.

“I want you to leave Harry Potter be and the prophecy regarding him and me in the Department of Mysteries as well. Any questions?” he encompassed them with a look.

Lucius rose his hand. “Is there a particular reason for your decision, my Lord?”

“I changed my mind in regards to the boy that is all. Instead of focussing on him, we should focus on Dumbledore and his Order. Why waste energy on a teenager when we have much bigger fish to worry about, wouldn’t you agree, Lucius?”

Lucius swallowed, but agreed with him. “You are absolutely right, my Lord.”

“Of course, I’m right.”

Avery was the next one who rose his hand. Voldemort granted him permission to speak. “Yes, Avery?”

“If I understood you correctly, you want us to carry on with our assignments; the only difference is that we should abort anything related to Harry Potter and the prophecy.”

“You understood me perfectly, Avery. All of you should carry along what you have been doing so far, infiltrating the Ministry, trying to find an inconspicuous way to make it fall. Just leave Harry Potter in peace, in other words, no slander, and no attacks whatsoever. Yes?”

They all nodded.

“Another thing I wanted to communicate to all of you is that I will be travelling outside of Britain for a year at least.”

The gathered Death Eaters gaped at the news.

“It will be a mixture of pleasure and business, and being out of the country will make it easier for us to keep my return a secret from the Ministry.”

Snape lifted his hand this time. “Do you have a specific place you will be travelling to in mind, my Lord?”

“No specific destination in mind, Severus, just me touring the world as I see fit in my new body, while trying to work out a detailed plan for taking over the Ministry and disposing of the Order as swiftly as possible,” he replied with a tight smile. He found it suspicious of Severus to ask him that, but he made sure not to show it on his face.

“Will we be able to contact you while you’re away?” asked McNair.

“No,” he said simply. “I will render the mark inactive for the duration of my travels, so it should look the way it did before my resurrection ritual. No visible mark on the skin, which should reassure the Ministry that I haven’t returned. Now, I need a volunteer to deactivate the mark for the rest of you here and those who are still in Azkaban.”

Lucius volunteered.

He beckoned him closer and he kneeled before him with the marked forearm extended towards him. He placed the tip of his yew wand directly onto the mark and started hissing in parseltongue. Slowly, the pitch black Dark Mark started to fade into the skin. Once it was invisible, he prompted his followers to roll up their sleeves and check their marked forearms.

They did as told and found unblemished skin.

“That will be all. Dismissed,” he said with authority. Dumb-founded, they started to leave, bowing and greeting him. He waited until the Malfoys were the only people present in the Manor.

“Lucius,” he called to him in a hissing tone, “I wish to speak.”

He immediately straightened and signalled his wife and son to leave them alone. “Yes, my Lord. What can I do for you?”

“I would like to know if you still have the book I left in your possession before I lost my body.”

Lucius’ pale expression grew paler still. Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

“Did something happen to the book, Lucius?” His tone was calm, but there was an underlying threat in his voice. If that bleached blond had somehow lost his horcrux or let it come to harm, he would be the one hurting from the torturing curse.

The man swallowed hard. “A-About that, my Lord,” he stammered. “A c-couple of years ago, the M-Ministry was raiding d-dark wizarding households in search of d-dark artefacts.”

“What happened to the book?” he insisted sternly, trying to keep his composure, because he was already feeling his blood boil in his veins at the thought of losing a horcrux. “That’s all I want to know.”

“I-It was d-destroyed, m-my Lord.”

Deafening and terrifying silence settled between them. Lucius was shaking internally, already bracing himself for a crucio.

Impatience and anger getting the better of him, he forced Lucius to his knees and dived into his mind, searching through memories until he came across the one with Lucius, Harry and Dumbledore in the headmaster’s office talking about him and the diary, which had a gaping hole in the middle. Oh, he was furious, but he listened and observed. Apparently, Lucius, to save his own ass from the Ministry, gave his precious horcrux to a first-year girl no less, who was then possessed by the soul shard in the diary to open the Chamber and unleash the basilisk within.

He made sure to wreck as much havoc inside Lucius’ mind as possible before abandoning it, because the satisfaction and joy he would have felt knowing his horcrux was trying to rid the school of filth were completely dampened by blood-boiling fury, because now, he had one safeguard less, and the location of others could be compromised as well. All because of Lucius’ actions.

“Crucio!” he hissed ferociously, his blood red eyes narrowed into slits and his jaw clenched. As he poured every bit of his wrath into the spell.

Lucius screamed and crumpled to the floor. His limbs started contorting. He writhed and thrashed for a full minute. He was aware of Narcissa and Draco entering the room they were in, gasping and pleading with him to release Lucius from the spell, but he ignored them. Because no one told him what to do and he definitely wasn’t merciful enough to those who have failed him in such a way.

After most of his rage dissipated, he let him go. He approached the shivering, twitching, whimpering and sobbing mess that was Lucius Malfoy and stepped onto his face, pressing his cheek into the floor.

“When I give you something to safeguard, you guard it with your pathetic life if necessary, is that clear?” he hissed through clenched teeth. Lucius managed to nod under his foot. “This was the first and last time you did something like that, Lucius. From now on, you are at the bottom of the command order. You are nothing but dirt among my followers. I don’t care how much power or sway you hold over the Minister, you and your family have lost all prestige in my circle of followers.”

“I can make it up to you, my Lord,” pleaded Lucius. “I swear I will make it up to you.”

Voldemort sneered. “I don’t want to hear your empty promises. I want to see results, because that’s all I’m expecting from you, but if you were incapable to safeguard a book, a very important book mind you, then I don’t see how you could do anything I ask of you no matter how simple the task.”

He removed his foot from the blond’s face and straightened himself and his robes. “I will be leaving now and I won’t be back until I return from my travels,” he announced to all three Malfoy. “If you indeed wish to prove yourself to me, Lucius, then I expect you to do something productive and useful for the cause. I want the path to be paved for when I return for a swift take over from within the Ministry, is that understood?”

He nodded.

“Good.” He was about to leave, when he turned to Narcissa and Draco. “Oh, and one more thing. Give me one of your house elves. One that you won’t miss terribly when it doesn’t return back to you.”

Narcissa called for one of them and ordered the creature to accompany him.

With the creature at his side, he immediately apparated to the Cliffside cave to check on his locket. The elf looked frightened and rightfully so, but it’s not like he cared since it was going to die in a few minutes anyway.

They boarded the boat and travelled across the water, until they reached the small rock isle with the basin filled with the Emerald Potion.

He peered inside and noticed that there was indeed a locket in there; however, he wanted to be sure this was the same locket he left all those years ago.

“Drink all of it,” he ordered the elf, who obliged, but after a few drinks began to resist and complain about thirst and pain.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the crystal container and started forcing the potion down the elf’s throat, who struggled in vain. Once it was done, he cast a wordless severing charm at the creature’s neck, severing its head. Then, he levitated the body and the head and dropped them into the inferi-infested water.

He took out the locket to inspect it and quickly realised that was not Salazar Slytherin’s locket. He opened it and found a message inside.

_To the Dark Lord_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B_

He crumpled the message in his hand as he shook in rage once again. Who was the insolent that discovered his secret? Who was the insolent who dared take away his horcrux to destroy it?

He stared at the initials and tried to think of what the initials stood for. He remembered asking Regulus Black for his elf to test the defences, but … surely, the elf died when he left it in the cave.

But what if it didn’t? What if it returned to its master and told him all about this place?

What was Regulus’ middle name again? Did it start with an A? Because if it was indeed Regulus who managed to take his locket, then he probably took it to his house. For some reason, the exact location and name of the place escaped him, no matter how much he tried to remember it. He knew where the Blacks lived, then why couldn’t he remember the name of the residence and the exact address?

Probably because it was under a Fidelius Charm and the lair of Dumbledore’s Order. How in the world would he infiltrate it? Severus must be aware of the location, but he probably wasn’t the Secret-Keeper. Besides, he had decided he was going to do things on his own, because clearly most of his followers were incompetent.

He placed the crumpled note inside the locket again, returned it to the basin and refilled it with the Emerald Potion. In case someone else learnt of this location as the hiding place for one of his horcruxes, they will suffer for nothing.

He still needed to check on the ring at the Gaunt Shack in Little Hangleton and keep it close to him, the Diadem should still be at Hogwarts with none the wiser about it, though once he infiltrates Hogwarts he will be able to confirm it, and the Cup should be safe in Bellatrix’s vault in Gringotts. She might be crazy, but at least she was smart enough to put his horcrux in a Gringotts vault and not in her personal library at the Lestrange Manor.

He was still pissed about the diary and he had a feeling he would be pissed about it for a while. He was furious with Lucius for endangering it in the first place, but the one to destroy the diary was Harry Potter … or Dumbledore.

“Oh, Harry,” he hissed angrily under his breath. “Oh, Harry. You’re lucky I didn’t learn about the diary before our agreement, because otherwise, you can be sure I wouldn’t have negotiated any kind of truce with you.”

…

Miles away from the cave, a cold shiver ran down Harry’s spine in the middle of summer heat … for no apparent reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry 😆 Feeling Voldemort's anger from miles away. 😆
> 
> And Voldemort thinks he's slick about his parseltongue disguise too. 😜 Let's see how that goes for him. For illustrative purposes, I will leave an approximation of Voldemort's Felix Hansson disguise here:  
> 
> 
> This is actually Benjamin Eidem, a Swedish model, and he was the inspiration behind the disguise. 😊


	8. Tea of Good Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets up with Professor Snape and Voldemort sets the first phase of his plan into motion.

After the Death Eater meeting, Severus immediately presented himself at the Order headquarters to report on what he had learnt. When he told them about the Dark Lord’s demand to let Harry Potter alone, his plan to retire outside of Britain for a year to travel and his plan on the conquest of Magical Britain, everyone present at the dining table was lost for words for a full minute … even Moody and Dumbledore.

Sirius was the first one to recover from his shock. “That’s bullshit. You’re lying,” he accused.

Severus directed a cold glare at him. “I don’t particularly care if you believe me or not, Black,” he snarled, “but I will not have you accuse me of lying so blatantly. You want proof?” He rolled up his left sleeve to show his unmarred inner forearm. “There’s your proof,” he spat.

They all stared at the forearm.

“Please, Sirius, Severus, no fighting,” said Dumbledore. They didn’t say anything, but they continued to scowl at each other. He addressed Severus. “Did he say anything about where he was going, anything at all?”

“No, when I asked him if he had a destination in mind, he smirked and said that he would tour the world as he saw fit.”

“This might be a trap Albus,” warned Moody. “You can never discard that possibility.”

“I know, Alastor,” he sighed, rubbing his wrinkled forehead. “I know this could only be a misdirection, but with no one being able to communicate directly with Voldemort, there’s not much we can do.”

“Well, he might be bullshitting about his world tour, but I don’t think he was bullshitting about leaving my godson be,” said Sirius. “I say we let Harry know of this so he won’t have to worry about Voldemort anymore and you can finally allow me and his friends to communicate freely with him.”

“Think for a moment, Sirius,” hissed Moody. “What if that’s exactly what Voldemort wants? Lure us into thinking he’s given up on the boy, trick us into revealing his location, and lead him straight to him. He might have ordered his Death Eaters to leave him alone, but he could be still targeting him secretly. Remember, constant vigilance.”

Dumbledore looked deep in thought.

“And you know what I think, Moody,” said Sirius with narrowed eyes, “that you’re paranoid. My godson feels like his friends from school have forsaken him, because he hasn’t heard from them at all since the classes ended, he’s still dealing with the aftermath of the tournament and Cedric’s death, and instead of letting him stay here with me, you force him to go back to his relatives.” He pointed accusingly at Dumbledore.

“We’ve been through this, Sirius. Harry has to go back to his relatives for at least two weeks every year until he’s of age to ensure that his mother’s protection remains in place.”

“Well, it’s already been two weeks,” he snarled, “more than two weeks. As for a safe place for him to be, this place _is_ safe. It’s under Fidelius and it has been since last summer.”

“For someone who feels forsaken, the boy sure was able to find a way to fill his time with things to do,” commented Hestia Jones, one of the people assigned to keep an eye on Harry.

Sirius glared at the woman. “Yeah,” he huffed, “thank Merlin, he did. Thank Merlin, he has found people who don’t ignore him. Thank Merlin, he has found himself a healer to sort his mind in order. Thank Merlin, he has found a way to get some peace from his relatives. Because apparently no one here who is supposedly thinking about his well-being will do anything for him when he NEEDS IT THE MOST!” His voice was getting gradually more aggressive, until he exploded.

Remus placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders to calm him down.

“Sirius, enough,” said Dumbledore calmly. “I understand your frustration and your desire to be with your godson, but you must also understand that we cannot compromise the Order for one boy, especially since he might have a connection with Voldemort.”

Sirius just shook his head in disappointment. “You know what, Albus? I don’t think you understand, because if you understood, you wouldn’t be here, asking me to ignore my godson, when he’s suffering emotionally and mentally no matter how busy he keeps himself. If you understood what Harry is going through, then you wouldn’t keep him away from his godfather and friends.”

There was silence.

“I can’t be in the same room with you anymore,” he said encompassing everyone who was present in the dining room. “It’s getting difficult to breath. I’m going to see Witherwings; he’s much better company than all of you right now.”

He shook off Remus’ hands and walked away. “One more thing, Albus,” he said, turning to them, before he left for good, “I want a trial and I want my freedom, so I can hang out with my godson whenever I please.”

With that, he left.

“So melodramatic,” drawled Severus, but his comment lacked the bite and venom it usually had.

…

When Friday came, for some strange reason, Harry was even more nervous to meet with his Potions Professor than with Voldemort. It was probably because Snape was his professor and thus had more contact with him on every day basis than Voldemort, and while Professor Snape wasn’t necessarily trying to kill him, he sure seemed to enjoy making his life miserable through hurtful comments and downgrading his Potions assignments and exams, whether he put in the effort or not.

Five minutes to one, the café bell chimed and as he welcomed the customer together with the puppies, he noticed it was Professor Snape.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” he greeted politely, still in his waiter attire.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter,” he answered with the corner of his eyes fixed on the dogs that were sniffing his legs and feet and wagging their tails.

“Please, sit wherever you desire, I will be with you shortly. I just need to finish my shift and change out of the uniform, unless you don’t mind me wearing it.”

“Don’t you worry about me, Mr. Potter,” he drawled. “You go do whatever you need to do first.”

He nodded and followed Snape to the table he had chosen. Luckily, there was no cat seated on one of the chairs and while the puppies followed Severus, trying to get his attention and pets, his professor didn’t seem to terribly mind them … yet.

“Would you like me to bring you anything to drink?” he asked, smiling.

“Black tea with a dash of milk and no sugar will be fine.”

“I will be right back with your order,” he said and left his Potions professor to the mercy of excited puppies.

“What do you want you damned mutts?” Severus grumbled under his breath. They barked once. “I’m neither holding you nor petting you,” he told them resolutely. Half of them desisted, already interested in something else, but two persisted. He shooed them away. “I don’t have anything to give you, so if you want to eat go eat from your dog bowls.”

They turned away and one went to roughhouse one of his fellow pups and the other went to the counter where Harry was in hopes he would give him some cuddles. The forth one was at the bowl eating dog biscuits.

While Harry was getting his tea ready, Severus looked at the café and thought that it was indeed a suitable place for the boy to get some experience with what it was like to work with people on a regular basis and how tiresome it could get … especially being polite.

The boy returned five minutes later to place his order in front of him then excused himself so he could change clothes. He served him a ceramic teapot where his black tea was still soaking in a metal filter ball, a cup, a teaspoon and a little jug of milk, so he could adjust just how much milk he wanted in his tea.

While he waited for Harry to join him and for his tea to soak, Severus was contemplating whether it was okay to tell the boy the ugly truth about the Marauders. He could hurt Black by making his own godson hate him, but there was no doubt that the truth would also hurt Harry, and he couldn’t do that to him, not when he was making the effort of them getting along and had even offered to pay for his drink, and if Cedric Diggory’s death still haunted him.

Absentmindedly, he poured the tea and milk in the cup and mixed it with the spoon.

However, the boy was also curious and stubborn and would probably want to learn what happened that made Severus act so hatefully towards a child who had done nothing to him directly upon his arrival at Hogwarts.

He sighed, conflicted; but by the time Harry sat opposite him, he had reached a decision.

“So, Mr. Potter,” he drawled, “what would you like to talk about?”

The boy scratched his neck. “Honestly, Professor, I’m most curious to learn what happened between you and my father that made you hate me so much from the beginning.”

Severus had to suppress the urge to close his eyes and sigh.

“But, since I know that’s a sensitive subject for you, I would first like to ask you, if I may of course; why did you become a teacher if you don’t like children?”

Severus arched an eyebrow at the question.

Harry, thinking he might have asked an inappropriate question, immediately apologised.

“Believe me, Mr. Potter, if I could have it any other way, I would have never chosen this career path,” he confessed wryly. “Alas, it wasn’t really my choice, because the headmaster wants me to work at Hogwarts as both the resident Potions Master and Professor, since I supply all the potions in the Hospital Wing and according to him it seemed economical to employ me as professor as well after the retirement of the previous one.” He looked irked. “And apparently, Dumbledore believes that I can impart my profound knowledge of potion making to future generations of wizards.”

“If I may be frank, Professor,” began Harry. Severus gestured him to voice his thoughts. “While I agree that you are indeed a great Potions Master, you are not suitable for teaching … large groups of young pupils at least. Maybe if you taught a handful of students who are interested in the subject, you would be able to teach them a lot, but you don’t have the attitude, personality and the patience to deal with most of Hogwarts students.”

“Just like how most of those students don’t care for the subject either.”

“Well …” he said awkwardly, “m-maybe if you didn’t snap at people so much or make them nervous with your comments and appeared more approachable, they might show more engagement and interest.”

Severus’ stare made Harry flustered.

“Or you could take the time to explain and demonstrate in person how to prepare the ingredients, go through the safety protocol for brewing, maybe recommend students to wear protective gear, such as gloves, goggles, face masks and lab coats. I’m sure that the number of health hazardous incidents would diminish if students were aware of the dangers of improper brewing.”

“While you raise a valid point, Mr. Potter,” he said shrewdly, “most of what you just said is written in books. It’s the students’ job to read their textbooks and do independent research.”

“Unfortunately, Professor, not everyone likes to read as much as Hermione, and most students don’t read ahead, so, as a teacher, you should anticipate that and just explain it in person. And if you really want to motivate students into paying attention in Potions, maybe you should have like a safety protocol test at the beginning of each year and those who don’t pass it, don’t get to brew for the rest of the year and they can automatically fail the class. I’m sure the threat of repeating a year would motivate anyone into trying their hardest,” said Harry, hopeful.

As he looked into Severus’ eyes, he could swear he saw them glitter in amusement.

“I like the sound of your proposition, Mr. Potter,” he said smirking. “I like it very much. Maybe I will implement it this upcoming school term and see how it fares.”

Joy bubbled in his chest at having Professor Snape of all people praise his idea for improving student performance in Potions. His lips stretched in a sheepish grin.

“Although, personally, I’ve always been an advocate of making Potions an elective subject,” commented Snape and took a sip of his tea. “That way people who don’t have an interest in the field can drop it at any given point of their education and my nerves would be spared and the students can focus on other things.”

Harry thought for a second about it. “That’s a brilliant idea, Professor, but why hasn’t this happened yet?” he asked with a pensive frown.

“The school administration department at the Ministry hasn’t approved of it, saying Potions is a fundamental subject that every witch and wizards must learn how to do.” He huffed. “They think that following a recipe in a highly dumb-downed book is enough, yet students still have problems with basic potions and put themselves and others at risk.”

Harry had flashbacks to all the times Neville did something to his potion that made the cauldron melt or explode and land him in the Hospital Wing, and while he agreed that Neville should be extra cautious, maybe even have private lessons, Snape didn’t have to degrade him almost as badly as he degraded him.

“Still, you shouldn’t insult those who aren’t as proficient. Insults and humiliation don’t help, if anything, they make it worse in some cases.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that about Longbottom?”

“Yes,” said Harry resolutely. “You seem to particularly target him and me, but also Hermione. However, in her case you seem to be irritated that she knows so much. Shouldn’t you be happy that she reads about the subject and knows stuff no first year did back when you interrogated me about bezoars, and wormwood and asphodel and wolfsbane and monkshood during my very first Potions lesson?”

“Just because Miss Granger reads a book and memorises it, or knows how to follow a recipe to a T doesn’t mean she understands all the subtleties about potion making if she didn’t read it explicitly in a book. It will take more than a know-it-all to impress me,” he drawled. “As for Longbottom, he should grow a backbone. Maybe if he brewed something properly on his own I wouldn’t have a reason to insult his lack of intelligence and skills.”

“But that’s just it,” insisted Harry. “You expect Neville to perform well enough for a passing grade, yet you make him nervous even before the brewing starts and then during it and it makes him prone to mistakes. With proper guidance, he might be able to improve.”

“Then I believe you have a new Potions partner this year, Mr. Potter. I will leave Mr. Longbottom in your capable and understanding hands and if there are any incidents, you will both answer for them. This will be the perfect opportunity for you to prove how serious you are about your education and proving yourself in my class. Especially now that O.W.L.s are approaching,” he said with wicked glee.

Harry swallowed. Oh no. What did he get himself into by defending Neville? Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. No, he couldn’t let someone suffer unnecessarily. Not if he could do something about it.

“You will see that both Neville and I will do fine in your class,” he said determined. “Just wait and see. We will be the most diligent students you’ve ever had in your entire career and before this new school term is over, we will be your favourite students even though we’re Gryffindors.” A faint blush blossomed on his cheeks.

Severus chuckled, amused. “I can’t wait for it, Mr. Potter,” he teased.

“So, does that mean you agree not to target Neville, Hermione, me or anyone really with hurtful comments?”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “I will keep it in mind, especially you and Mr. Longbottom, but I’ve been doing this for far too long to suddenly change overnight. People might think someone is polyjuicing as me or that I’ve hit my head and suffered a personality transplant.”

Harry nodded. “I understand. Thank you,” he smiled.

“Speaking of becoming a diligent student, have you already done your summer home assignment for my class?”

“Uh … n-not yet, but I’m slowly doing my summer homework during my free time, especially on weekends. I will have everything done on time for sure.”

Silence stretched between them as Severus drank from his teacup again and Harry ran out of things to stall the main reason this entire conversation was even happening: why had Professor Snape hated him from the start and what had happened between his father and his professor?

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he dared to ask him about it. “Is it safe for us to talk about what happened between my father and you?”

Severus looked around the almost empty café, but still went ahead to cast a wandless and nonverbal Muffliato. Then, he placed the cup on the table with a sigh.

“I suppose we can … Your father together with your godfather, Lupin and Pettigrew formed a gang of bullies at Hogwarts.”

Harry went stiff and motionless as if someone had just poured a bucket of ice-cold water on him.

“Of course, they didn’t think of themselves as such. They thought themselves pranksters and their favourite target was me. It started with insults aimed at my appearance and it escalated into physical violence. I fought back of course, I tried to use my knowledge of dark magic to gain the upper hand and I managed to get back at them on numerous occasions, but then they would strike back again, because they couldn’t let me win, I couldn’t let them win and it became a vicious circle of trying to outdo the other. However, when both Black and your father teamed up, with Pettigrew and Lupin as their wingmen, usually ambushing me, I stood little chance against them.”

Harry felt numb as he stared blankly at the table, listening to what sounded so painfully familiar it was making him sick. His throat constricted and he felt tears collect in his eyes. Determined not to let them fall in public, he furiously blinked them away.

“Why?” croaked Harry, his voice cracking. “Why would my father and godfather do something like that? Weren’t they the good guys?”

“As your father put it when asked about that same thing ‘ _It’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean_ ’. And because Black was bored and he needed some entertainment.”

That hurt. That hurt like a kick to the stomach. Knowing his father, whom everyone hailed as a hero for fighting against Voldemort, who died a brave hero’s death, was also a vile bully, made his stomach churn and hard to breathe.

He lost himself in the memories of his own childhood with Dudley and his gang pursuing and tormenting him because he was nothing but a freak and a waste of space. To them it was a game, a way to pass the time, to chase away the boredom. It didn’t matter how much every punch and kick hurt him. No, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Dudley and his friends had fun.

“Potter.” Snape’s soft tone startled him. “I didn’t tell you this to hurt you or make you hate your father or your godfather. You wanted to know what happened and I told you. While others want to forget your father’s bad traits and actions and only praise his heroics, your father’s worst traits are the only thing I remember to this day. His and Black’s. I despise Lupin for never having the guts to prevent the bullying or just distance himself from everything, and Pettigrew was no better. As I’ve said to you in my reply, I recognise that I let your physical resemblance to your father, your rule-breaking tendencies and your snarky comebacks to some of my insults get to me and I unleashed all my frustration and hatred I feel towards your father on you. I shouldn’t have. No matter how much you look like him. I shouldn’t have assumed that just because your father was a conceited prat that you were also conceited due to your fame. I can try to save face by saying I was trying to keep your ego in check in my own twisted way, but in actuality, I was humiliating you at every opportunity I could.”

“But you won’t treat me badly from now on, right?” prompted Harry, doing his damnedest not to cry. “I will do my best to be a good person and a good student and we will have a cordial relationship.” His voice cracked and he had to stop talking, otherwise, he would break in front of his professor.

“Of course, Mr. Potter,” he assured him. He finished the tea and excused himself. “I will be taking my leave now, if you agree.”

Harry nodded numbly. Severus produced two and a half pounds for his tea and milk and offered him a handshake. Harry looked dazed at the offered hand, then reached for it and shook it.

“I wish you luck in your job and school,” said Severus. “I will see you at school.”

With that, he left, leaving a stunned Harry behind. He remained seated for a solid minute, just staring blankly at the table, feeling miserable.

A bark pierced through his daze and he looked down, the white, fluffy puppy gazing up at him. He picked him up and hugged him. The puppy immediately started licking his face in between soft whines, as if the animal could feel his sorrow and was trying to offer comfort, cheer him up, and tell him he was there for him.

A melancholic smile graced Harry’s lips and he kissed the dog’s fur. He felt slightly better, but he still felt like crying his eyes out.

…

As soon as he was in the safety of Mrs. Nightingale’s therapy room in her home, he broke down.

Florence was immediately on her feet, worried expression on her face, and pulled him into a comforting hug. He immediately returned it and sobbed into her shoulder. She stroked his hair gently, murmuring a soft melody, waiting for him to calm down.

Once the intensity of his outburst began to die down, she guided him to the sofa, offered him handkerchiefs to wipe his eyes and nose.

“What happened Harry?” she inquired gently, sounding like a preoccupied mother rather than a therapist. “What got you so upset?”

When he didn’t say anything immediately, she assured him. “Take your time, if you need it. Just remember that you can tell me anything. That’s why I’m here.”

He nodded.

She offered him a glass of cool water and chocolates and then, she suggested they play ‘ _Cluedo’_.

“I’ve never played it,” he confessed, embarrassed.

“Well, then this could be the perfect opportunity for you to try and see if you like it.”

She went to get the equipment and as she was explaining the rules of the game to him, it reminded Harry of Sherlock Holmes. He didn’t think himself all that great solving mysteries, if anything, he was abysmal. He erroneously deducted that Professor Snape was trying to kill him and trying to get to the philosopher’s stone in his first year. He erroneously thought Draco was the Heir of Slytherin or that he even knew who it was and he had no clue about the basilisk until Hermione provided him and Ron with that page about basilisks. In his third year, he believed others that Sirius was a mass murderer and Voldemort’s supporter who betrayed his parents and wanted to kill him, when he was going after Pettigrew.

“I don’t think I’m good at detective and deduction games,” he said apologetically.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this game and who knows, maybe you might find out that your assessment of your own skills is erroneous,” she playfully winked at him.

He doubted it, but he let a shy smile grace his lips.

As they played, moved from room to room, making suggestions of who murdered the victim with what weapon and in which room, Harry opened up about his conversation with Snape. However, since Mrs. Nightingale was a muggle, he needed to spin everything in such a way that would not seem odd from a muggle’s perspective.

“Today I met up with someone who knew my parents in school,” he said blankly, after he moved six blocks towards the lounge. “You know, to ask him about what my parents were like … especially my father.”

She moved ten spaces towards the study. “And?” she prompted gently.

“Growing up, my relatives never told me much about them and when they did it was to insult them.”

He rolled a nine. “For a long time I thought they were worthless drunks that got themselves into a car crash and died. When I started boarding school, however, I learnt that was not the case. I learnt that my parents were police officers, fighting crime and that a very dangerous criminal that they were trying to stop killed them. I had many people tell me I look like my dad and that I have my mother’s eyes and …” he swallowed hard, trying not to get emotional again. “I felt proud to be compared to them … especially my father. He sounded like a hero from one of those comic books and I wanted to be like him when I grow up.”

“But today something changed,” she stated with a mirthless smile and he nodded.

“When I asked this person about my father, he told me that during his school days, he liked to torment him with my godfather and a couple of other friends. My father and his friends would insult this man’s appearance, play unsavoury and potentially dangerous pranks on him. They humiliated him and even caused him physical harm. All because they needed entertainment and because they were bothered by this person’s existence.”

Harry’s eyes stung and he was on the verge of crying again.

“After going through something similar as the man my dad tormented went through, I don’t ever want to be compared to my dad again. Because now, every time someone will say that I’m like him, instead of feeling like a compliment, it will feel like an insult.”

He wiped the tears with his hands. The game forgotten for the moment, Mrs. Nightingale cradled him to her chest again.

“I think it’s great you want to be your own person Harry,” she told him encouragingly. “While the work your parents did for the police force is certainly admirable, it doesn’t mean they were without faults. No human is. Even you and me. You know how the saying goes, ‘To err is human’. However,” she added sternly, “that should never be the excuse to do horrible things to others, especially if you’re doing them deliberately. Your father, your godfather and those other two friends should never have done what they did, no matter how they might have felt about this other person. Even if they apologised and regretted their actions now, they can’t undo all the suffering and damage they caused to the person’s self-esteem and psyche. With that being said, while their actions and reasons behind them are deplorable, that doesn’t necessarily make them bad or even evil people.”

Harry looked at her, sniffing. 

“During my psychology studies, I had to read about all sorts of psychological experiments and there were a couple of them that can explain how good-natured people who might never consider themselves as capable of evil and despicable acts can do them. The first one has to do with the dangers of group behaviour and blind obedience to authority. How far is one willing to go when told to do something that goes against morals and conscience by an authority figure or institution? In the experiment, the subjects were told to question someone and, for each incorrect answer, they had to administer an electric shock that increased in intensity each time.”

Harry’s eyes widened in horror.

“The experimenters were ‘authority figures’ and whenever the subject would hesitate, object or refuse to keep electrocuting the person he could only hear but not see, they would urge them to continue and it’s shocking how many people that participated administered the highest possible voltage, despite the protesting in the middle. Of course, the person in the other room was an actor and didn’t experience a single shock, but the subjects didn’t know that and it provided an insight how someone who would be considered as loving and good could do the most evil and despicable things imaginable to another human being.”

“The second experiment had to do with the psychological effects of perceived power. A group of college students volunteered to participate and they were split into two groups: the guards and the prisoners. The researcher acted as the superintendent. Suffice to say that the participants got too into their assigned roles, especially the guards, and while the experiment had his fair share of critics from methodological standpoint as well as how authentic the actions of the volunteers were, it’s safe to say that the cruelty that ensued during the experiment speaks volumes on its own. If you want, after we finish playing _Cluedo_ , I can show you the documentaries of what I just told you.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Although, mind you, they aren’t easy documentaries to watch, so if it gets too much for you to watch, just say so.”

He nodded.

Ten minutes later, they finished their round of _Cluedo_ and settled on the sofa, where they watched documentaries on Stanley Milgram’s experiment on obedience and Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford prison experiment.

True to Mrs. Nightingale’s warning, it proved difficult to watch and listen. Harry’s stomach churned and twisted, yet, no matter how uncomfortable and vomit inducing some of the footage proved to be; Harry kept listening and watching.

By the end, Harry felt enlightened, as if his eyes opened to so many explanations about society and people within it. The experiments didn’t offer an excuse to the Marauders’ behaviour towards Snape, but they sure offered an explanation for it.

He would still have to confront his godfather about it though.

…

It took him a few days to come up with a satisfying background information for Felix Hansson, but once he was done with it, he set out to arrange his elaborately complicated plan, with his disguise in place and a disillusioned Nagini at his side.

First, he withdrew a staggering amount of money in both wizard and muggle currency. Then, he acquired some Swedish-English translation glasses and Swedish-English and English-Swedish ear aids recently introduced in Flourish and Blotts in the travel and foreign languages sections, so he would be able to read, understand and speak Swedish without any major problems.

Then he apparated to Felix’s country of birth to explore the wizarding district again, bought several books that reflected in some way the first four years of Hogwarts’ curriculum and tested out the translating tools he bought.

For text, he was seeing the original text with the translation above the lines, and in conversations, he was able to hear it in English with one ear aid, and whenever he wanted to say something, he only had to think about it and the second ear aid would provide him with the appropriate Swedish line.

After he had this taken care of, he went back to England to look for a suitable muggle couple.

He had to imperio a couple of people to get the necessary information, then, spent several days doing research on them. Luckily, there weren’t many people with that specific surname and that fit his requirements.

After three fails, he found the perfect muggle couple to use as Felix’s parents.

He spent an entire day watching them under a disillusionment charm, following them around their daily routine. As an elderly couple, they didn’t do many extreme things, they spent most of their day together in the living room, watching TV or listening to the radio and talking to each other, reminiscing their life, commenting on the news, discussing about gardening tools and growing plants.

The woman, Ingrid, aged sixty, cooked, tended to the garden behind the house, knitted, did embroidery and needlepoint tapestry, while the man, Erik, aged sixty-seven, read carpentry and gardening magazines and spent time in the shed, working on simple carpentry projects or fixing anything that was broken around the house.

They were calm, happy and affectionate with each other and didn’t hold back on their use of corny nicknames and kissing and hugging and an occasional grope. Whenever he witnessed it, he felt the urge to gag and roll his eyes.

When they went to bed, which was around nine in the evening, he placed a sleeping spell on them and proceeded to explore the house to his heart’s content. There wasn’t much: two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room, a kitchen and dining room in one, and a pantry, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

On day two of his observation, he decided to visit them officially by presenting himself as the founder of the new gardening club in the town community, handing out pamphlets and advertising his club.

As soon as they showed interest and let him inside, offering him tea and coffee with some homemade baked goods, he took out his wand and put one of them to sleep while he used legilimency on the other to view the memories and vice versa.

Apparently, they were both retired, the man because he had reached his retirement age and the woman because of a lower-back injury. They wanted children but couldn’t have them. They didn’t have any immediate family since their parents were dead and they had no siblings. They had some distant relatives in Sweden, but they hadn’t heard from them or seen them in decades. They were born and raised in Sweden, yet had to move to the UK in their twenties, when the husband was transferred abroad.

He didn’t dwell on the very intimate memories, but they were both raised on a farm, they met as children, because they were living on neighbouring farms, they got married when the woman was eighteen and the man twenty-five. They both worked in the manufacturing industry, she in a textile factory and he in a car factory.

Personality-wise, they hadn’t changed all that much. They were kind, generally happy people, who were devoted to one another, always faithful and loving, but he also saw the ache that appeared every time they saw families together on a walk or trip. The self-blaming, doubt and loathing that followed shortly after. The tears that were shed in each other’s presence and away from the spouse’s eyes. The discussions of adoption, but never meeting all the standards to adopt.

Even though it would take a while and a lot of effort on his part to modify decades’ worth of memories, he was determined to make his plan work. Therefore, for the next nine days, he kept the elderly couple lethargic and worked to make them believe they worked in Sweden until three years ago, and lived in the house they had before they moved countries. He made them believe that all the conversations they had at home and outside of it happened in Swedish, that he was an unexpected but happy miracle, that they adored him and were doting on him, that he was a pleasant, but reserved child who was mature, intelligent beyond his age, and independent.

The most difficult part was coming up with memories that would depict every single day of the past fifteen years of Felix’s life. He couldn’t base anything off his own memories, but he observed happy families and formed his own ideas of a happy family. To make his infant and toddler days as believable as possible, he found himself buying muggle books on pregnancy and first few years of a child’s life and speed-reading them with speed-reading glasses.

Over halfway, however, he could feel the exhaustion settle in his body, the exertion he put on his magic made him sluggish. He started questioning if all of this was even worth all the effort and energy. He knew it would be difficult, time-consuming and exhausting, but he apparently severely underestimated just how taxing everything would be on him. Abandoning his endeavour briefly crossed his mind, but he had come too far, he had invested too much to stop and turn away from it. He was going to see this through no matter what.

By the end, he was satisfied with what he’d done with the memories. He had a good and loving relationship with Ingrid and Erik, despite their advanced age. He helped around the house, with the groceries, the laundry and cleaning. His hobbies involved reading, fishing with his father and helping him in the shed, helping his mother in the garden, especially after her lower-back injury.

To conclude his endeavour and finally let Felix’s new parents go about their every day, he compiled a photo album of Felix and his parents, bought a new wardrobe for him and furniture to set up his new room at his new house. Then, he purchased a Pensieve, extracted all the memories involving Felix’s childhood into it, made a copy of the memories and proceeded to insert one by one into his own mind.

The amount of memories made his head want to burst, but after a day or two, he was good enough again. Then, he returned the memories to Ingrid and Erik and cancelled all spells that he had placed on them to keep them pliant.

Just like him, they too experienced severe headaches after finally waking up. As Felix Hansson, the good, loving, and caring son, he nursed his ‘parents’ back to full health with the aid of a few potions. To see how successful he was, he waited to see how they would react to him, how they would talk to him, behave toward him.

When his ‘mother’ and ‘father’ referred to him with loving nicknames and acted as if he had been a constant part of their life, Voldemort felt a profound satisfaction at his genius. Now, the only thing left was for his ‘parents’ to write to Hogwarts and get accepted into fifth year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: While the Order was spying on Harry, when Harry met up with Sirius and Voldemort, someone incompetent and easily distracted was keeping eye on him (a. k. a. Mundungus Fletcher), therefore the Order doesn't know of Sirius' little escapade as Padfoot nor that Harry went to the back alley with a complete stranger.
> 
> If you're interested in the documentaries mentioned in the chapter, I believe you can find them on YouTube. 😊
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed the chapter! 😇


	9. Improving Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana Maria and Nathan are determined to celebrate Harry's birthday, Harry confronts his godfather about his past bullying of Snape with his father, and he manages to convince both men to start attending counselling session with Mrs. Nightingale to improve individually and together.

_Monday, 20 July 2015_

While Harry didn’t feel as down as he did on Friday, because he spent most of the weekend chatting with Nathan and Ana Maria and having a good laugh with all the memes they sent him, his father’s and godfather’s actions still weighed heavy on Harry’s chest and mind.

He still found it painful to know his father and godfather could have been so cruel to another human being for no real, apparent reason other than some strong, irrational dislike. For that reason, he needed to speak with Sirius and ask him why they did what they did. He needed to understand, even if he couldn’t condone the behaviour they displayed and actions they did.

He let out a sigh. However, he didn’t even know when he would see his godfather again. He told him they would meet soon, but it had been roughly two weeks since he last snuck out to visit him and he hadn’t snuck out to meet him since then. He knew that others would probably get suspicious if his sneaking out turned into a regular occurrence and he wished they could have some sort of communication that didn’t involve letters and owls and that allowed them to see or hear each other much like how he could video-call Nathan and Ana Maria.

He sighed again.

“Harry?” Ana Maria’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

He stopped drying the cup in his hand and looked at her. “Yes?” he prompted.

“You look like something is bothering you. Did something happen?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he assured her with a smile, “I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

Ana Maria didn’t look convinced, but didn’t prod further. “ _Si t_ _ú lo dices_ ,” she said, resigned. “Just know that if there’s anything wrong, you can always talk to me, okay?”

He nodded.

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“ _Ya que_ our birthdays are coming up soon, I was thinking if we could … _no s_ _é_ , celebrate them _como Dios manda, con fiesta y pastel_.”

Harry laughed. “I wouldn’t mind attending your birthday party, but I’m not sure about organising mine. I’ve never had a birthday party.”

Ana Maria gaped, horrified at him. _“¡¿Qué?!_ ” she exclaimed, with a hand pressed to her chest, _“P-Pero, ¿qué dices, Harry?_ _¿Cómo que nunca has tenido una fiesta de cumpleaños?_ ”

Harry winced apologetically. “My relatives don’t like noise and having lots of people at the house, so I never had birthday parties.”

“Well, we have to fix that this year,” she said, dead serious. “Because starting this year, we are going to celebrate your birthday with lots of fun and games and food and cake. I tell you, Harry. It’s going to be the bomb.”

He laughed heartily, moved that she was so determined to celebrate his birthday with a bang. Just as they started arranging the details for when, where and how they were going to celebrate his birthday, his phone vibrated with an incoming message. It was from Nathan, asking him if he knew and liked Jessie J’s music.

He dried off his hands and wrote back. ‘ _I’m not sure I know her, but if you send me some links to her songs I might recognise her voice or the lyrics. Why do you ask?_ ’

“Who was it?” asked Ana Maria.

“Nathan. He wanted to know something.”

“Ah, okay. _Bueno_ , like we were saying. Since your birthday is next Friday and we’re all working that day, I think that we should have the party on Saturday instead.”

“Uh, I’m working on Saturday morning at my local post office,” he said apologetically.

“Oh,” she said, slightly disappointed. “When do you finish?”

“At eleven in the morning.”

“ _Ah, bueno,_ e _ntonces no hay problema_ ,” she waved dismissively. “We’re going to come pick you up when you’re done with your job _y listo_.”

An e-mail notification and another text message from Nathan.

‘ _I sent you an e-mail with the links and I was asking because there’s a Jessie J concert happening next Saturday and I thought it could count as part of the celebration and your gift_.’

‘ _Got the mail, I will check the links when I’m done with my shift, but I wouldn’t mind going to the concert_.’

‘ _Ok, then I’m buying three tickets (you, Ana, and me), unless you want to invite more people_.’

Harry thought for a bit. He would invite Ron and Hermione, but since they still weren’t allowed to communicate with him, judging from the continued silence on their part, it was highly unlikely for them to attend the concert and he didn’t want Nathan to waste his money.

Maybe he could invite his godfather, so they could celebrate his birthday together, but he would have to sneak out again for an entire day and someone might notice his absence and panic. After all, Sirius was still a fugitive and a criminal in public’s eyes both magical and non-magical. Yet … he wanted to be selfish and have his godfather with him. He might have done and said cruel, horrible things in the past, but he was still his godfather … he still loved him, even if he felt disappointed and hurt to know he was far from perfect, just like his father.

Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly wrote back. In the meantime, Ana Maria went to attend a customer. ‘ _I would like to invite my godfather too, so if it isn’t too much to ask, buy a fourth ticket. I just worry you are going to spend too much money on the tickets. At least tell me you’re going for the cheapest ones_.’

‘ _Don’t worry, Ana and your godfather can give me the money for their tickets, but yours is supposed to count as gift, and yes, I’m looking for cheap ones, but I also want us to have good spots. I’m not going to go bankrupt with this._ ’

‘ _Fine_.’

…

By the time Ana Maria and Nathan switched shifts halfway through his, Harry and Ana Maria have arranged and outlined their birthday parties and Nathan came with printed concert ticket receipts.

At five o’clock, Harry finished his shift and as he walked out of the café, he noticed Sirius in his animagus form sitting and waiting nearby. When his godfather saw him, he immediately rushed to him, barking and wagging his tail excitedly.

Harry smiled. He was happy to see him after almost two long weeks, but there was a pang of pain accompanying that happiness. He guided them to a more quiet and private place, where they could talk in peace and where his godfather could transform back into his human form without anyone seeing him do that.

“Sorry, that it took so long since I last visited you, pup, but I was waiting for the surveillance to become less tight to come see and talk to you,” he said, pulling him into a hug.

Harry hugged back, mindful not to squish his glasses. “It’s okay,” he assured him, “I was beginning to worry, since there was no news, but I also don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.” He looked up at him and readjusted his glasses.

“Nonsense, pup, but apart from seeing you and spending some time with you, I also need to tell you something important.”

“What is it?”

“Last week, on Thursday, we got news that Voldemort has ordered his followers not to attack you in any way and that he himself is going to be absent for at least a year.” Harry’s eyes widened. “And to top it all off, he also deactivated the dark mark on his followers and now no one, not even his followers, can communicate with him.”

Harry wasn’t really surprised to know that Voldemort called off any future attacks on his person, because they had their agreement of non-violence in place, however, he was surprised to hear that the man planned to go abroad for a year and that he had cut all means of communication with his subordinates.

“Do you know why he did what he did?” he asked, surprised and curious.

“No, it came as a complete shock and surprise. So much so that Moody and Dumbledore think that this is just a misdirection and a trap to give us a false sense of security and that Voldemort is still after you.”

Harry doubted it, but he couldn’t say anything, because then he would have to tell his godfather and the rest about his meeting with Voldemort and the agreement, and he didn’t want people to know he’s been in contact with the man.

“Is that why Ron and Hermione are still not writing to me?” he asked instead. “Because Dumbledore still thinks Voldemort might be looking for a way to find and kill me?”

Sirius sighed. “Yes, he still has everyone prohibited from contacting you and he’s still keeping an eye on you through different people.”

Harry gaped. “Dumbledore is spying on me?” Panic settled in his chest, as his first thought was that someone had seen him with Voldemort and Professor Snape or Sirius.

“Yes, he’s been doing that since the summer started, but don’t worry, today the surveillance isn’t the best, so don’t worry about anyone seeing us.”

Harry then also remembered that Voldemort was in disguise and while for some reason he was able to see through his disguise, no one else saw his real face, muggle or wizard. He let out a sigh of relief. “That explains why I felt like someone was following me when I first came to London alone for work.” He looked at his godfather. “And you, do you think Voldemort is still trying to kill me and that all of this is just a stunt to lower our guard?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, pup, but I think that both Moody and Dumbledore are paranoid and are doing more harm than good to your mental well-being with this isolation.”

“So … you do think that Voldemort has decided to leave me be?”

He shrugged. “I suppose. I mean, I don’t think he’s bullshitting about it, but it doesn’t really hurt to be cautious about it, but not to the point Dumbledore and Moody are taking this matter.” He shook his head. “Anyway, the main thing that you need to know is that Voldemort is apparently travelling the world for a year and that he has given up on killing you.”

Harry nodded.

“Also, I wanted to give you something since we can’t send owls to each other.” He reached into his inner robe pocket and pulled out a mirror. “It’s a two-way mirror. I asked Remus to get a pair so we can use them for long-distance communication. Whenever you wish to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours.”

“That’s brilliant,” said Harry, smiling wide. “I was just thinking about something like that.”

“I know. Your father and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions,” said Sirius mischievously and as soon as he mentioned his father and detention, Harry’s smile fell.

Sirius noticed the change in expression and immediately asked what was wrong.

“I just remembered I also have something very important to discuss with you, Sirius.”

“Okay, we have time. What do you want to talk about?”

“I met up with Professor Snape last Friday and one of the things we talked about was why he hates me so much.” Sirius didn’t look happy about it, but abstained from making any comments. “And you know what he told me? That seeing me brings back all the bad memories from when you and my father were tormenting him at school.”

Sirius’ eyes widened and Harry had to take in a deep, steadying breath.

“He told me how you and my father would gang up on him, because apparently his mere existence bothered you and tormenting him provided entertainment when you felt bored. How do you think I felt when I heard that my father and my godfather were bullies? How should I feel from now on, when someone compares me to my father? Happy? Proud? Because I can’t. I can’t be happy or proud, when I know that my father was capable of cruelty.”

He stopped talking, his voice already cracking and his eyes filling up with tears.

“Harry …” he said gently, “looking back on our teenage days, it’s true that we did a lot of stupid shit back then, but don’t think for a second that Snape is some kind of saint because he’s not. Just like how we hexed him, he hexed us back. Just like how we disliked and hated him, you can be certain that the dislike and hatred was mutual. It’s still is, at least between him and me. Did he tell you how he was in love with your mother? How he always spent time with her until he called her a mudblood in fifth year?”

Harry’s eyes widened. Snape was close to his mother? Snape was in love with her? Was he still in love with her? He would need to ask him as soon as possible.

“No,” he whispered, “he didn’t tell me anything about my mother, but he told me that he fought back, and while the dislike and hatred was mutual, I highly doubt that the reasons were the same for both sides. You hated him for simply existing, for being a Slytherin. He probably hated you for being cruel and obnoxious.”

“Oh, he knew how to be cruel and obnoxious as well,” assured him Sirius, “nasty too, either with words or with spells. He always had this sinister look about him; he always looked like he was plotting something; he always seemed to have a knack and an obsession for Dark Arts, and look; he ended up being a Death Eater, torturing and killing people, and he was a Slytherin. So, in the end, he deserved every hex and humiliation.”

Harry couldn’t believe Sirius. “So does that mean that I also deserved every insult and beating from my relatives for being a wizard, for doing magic?” he asked, on the verge of tears. Now it was Sirius’ turn to look shocked and horrified. “Because according to you and your reasoning, my relatives had every right to starve me, insult me, hurt me, all because I was a wizard and they don’t like wizards.”

“No, Harry, of course not,” he said, cupping his face and drying his godson’s tears. “Of course, you didn’t deserve any of that, but your situation and Snape’s situation are different.”

“It’s not like Snape was a Death Eater from the beginning, or when he started Hogwarts, so how could he or anyone else have deserved any cruelty,” sobbed Harry brokenly. “He was a kid, just like you and dad with his own circumstances. Maybe there was a reason he looked, spoke and behaved a certain way and you might have found it irritating, suspicious and unpleasant, but you could have just ignored him or showed some civility. You could have approached him with kindness even when he was being curt and rude with you. Yet you and my father took an immediate dislike and decided that just because of that, he deserved to be mocked, ridiculed and hurt.”

He sniffed, and took off his glasses to wipe his eyes. It took him a few moments to calm down enough to speak without bursting into tears again.

“I don’t know why he became a Death Eater and I don’t know why he is so drawn to the Dark Arts, but I do know that no matter the reason, it doesn’t give me, or anyone else, the right to go out of my way to be cruel to him, or to anyone else for that matter. It’s not like he was performing dark spells and dark rituals on everyone who passed him, or have you seen him bully others at school?”

“No,” Sirius mumbled, averting his gaze, “but just because I didn’t see him do it that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it. I know for a fact that his dorm mates tormented other students.”

“He could have been tormenting others in private,” allowed Harry, “but again, you don’t know that and until you had proof, you had absolutely no right or excuse to do what you did, and even if he did torment others, why immediately resort to violence? Why couldn’t you have talked like civilised people first?” wondered Harry. “I know that talking and reasoning with someone doesn’t always work, but you should always try doing that first and then, if there’s no other way, use physical means and force to get your point across, because otherwise how does that make you any different and better than Death Eaters?”

“Harry,” breathed Sirius, wide-eyed, “you can’t seriously compare the two. Death Eaters torture and kill people and they do that through dark magic. We were trying to keep all those Death Eater wannabes and those with interest in dark magic in check.”

Harry looked accusatorily at his godfather. “Torture is torture, no matter the means, and what you and my father did to Snape and probably others too can easily be classified as torture. You might think you were saving and keeping the wizarding world safe, but you did that by arbitrarily inflicting pain onto others, even when there was no real reason for it. I’m not saying that you and my father were evil people, but I am saying that you aren’t as good as you might think you are, because you can be cruel to those you think deserve to suffer.”

Sirius stared blankly at the floor. “So … do you hate me for what I did to Snape?” he whispered, fighting off his own tears.

Harry smiled encouragingly and stepped closer to touch his arms. Sirius looked into his godson’s red-rimmed eyes.

“No,” he shook his head, “I don’t hate you or my father, but I want you to reflect on your past actions and decisions and try to better yourself as a person. This hatred you still claim to feel for Snape, and he for you, it’s not okay, it’s not healthy. It can’t be good for either of you,” he said stern gentleness.

He huffed. “So what are you trying to say, that Snape and I should be friends?”

“No, not at all,” he assured him. “You don’t have to be anything more than civil acquaintances, but you clearly need to work through some issues either independently or together and reach some level of civility and tolerance towards each other.”

Sirius heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the sky. “I don’t know if I can do it, Harry,” he said, looking at him. “I just … there’s something about Snape that just makes my blood boil, whenever I see him or think about him and I get this urge to say something insulting or hurtful just to get a reaction out of him.” He sounded frustrated. “Although, nowadays it would seem that the one who is getting a reaction out of the other is him, because I take everything he says to heart and so personally, and since most of what comes out of his mouth are insults, I just … lose my cool and I lash out verbally as well.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to his godfather. That sounded worse than he thought. It almost sounded as if his godfather was obsessed with Snape in some weird way.

“Uh … Sirius? If you’d like, I can talk with Mrs. Nightingale to see if maybe she can offer you some basic counselling as well,” he suggested tentatively. “I think you would really benefit from it.”

“If you say so,” he shrugged, “but I’m not the only one with a problem, you know.”

“I know, I’ll talk with Professor Snape as well about the counselling, but if you won’t put in the effort, then you can have a hundred hours of counselling and you won’t be any better off than how you were when you started,” said Harry sternly. “So … listen to what Mrs. Nightingale tells you.”

Sirius let out a chuckle. “Alright, pup,” he ruffled his hair. “I’ll be good and listen to whatever Mrs. Nightingale tells me.”

Harry beamed at his godfather. “You’ll see that once you start talking openly with someone about your problems and you follow advice on how to better your emotional and mental well-being, it will be better,” he assured him.

Sirius smiled at his godson, pulled him in for another hug, and pressed his lips to the top of his head. “I’m just happy to know that even after learning about the shit that I did together with your dad when we were at school that you still love us.” He blinked away the tears that prickled his eyes. “I don’t think I would have been able to forgive Snape if he turned you against us.”

“That was never Professor Snape’s intention,” said Harry. “He also recognises his wrongs especially in how he handled me, but we are going to improve our relationship to keep it civil. He’s still angry and bitter about the past, but I’m sure that if he puts in the effort as well, he will feel better about himself and others as well.”

“As long as he doesn’t take his anger out on you anymore, I’m more than happy to bear the brunt of his anger, hate and bitterness.”

Harry looked up at him. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary. I’ll talk with Mrs. Nightingale as soon as possible and see if I can arrange something so pay attention to your mirror.”

“I will,” smiled Sirius, “I expect you to call me every day, so we can talk about what you’re doing and how you are and things like that.”

Harry gasped, remembering his birthday. “I almost forgot, next Saturday, my colleagues and friends from the animal café, Ana Maria and Nathan, are organising a birthday party for me and one of the things we will do is go to a concert and I told Nathan to buy a ticket for you, in case you would like to come and spend time with me.”

“Of course, pup, you don’t have to ask. Just tell me when and where I have to be and I will be there. Which reminds me, I need to get you a present, although … I suppose this mirror could count as an early birthday present as well.”

Harry laughed. “A _very_ early birthday present, but you don’t have to get me anything, really.” He felt bad having people spend money on him, even if it was a special occasion. “Your presence will be more than enough.”

“Nonsense, I’ll find something or make something, either way, I can’t come empty-handed to your birthday party. That would be unacceptable,” he winked and ruffled his hair again.

“Just don’t go overboard.”

…

After that, Sirius and Harry went to a pastry shop for a dose of sugar, before going their separate ways. On the way to Privet Drive, Harry checked out the links Nathan sent him, and was just getting into the music, when Ana Maria started texting him asking about his favourite genre of movies.

Once he got home, he did as promised and contacted Mrs. Nightingale and asked her if she could help his godfather work through his hatred of his ‘Chemistry’ teacher and help Severus work through his childhood bullying and lingering feeling of hate towards his godfather.

“I know I’m asking a lot, but I really want to help them get better.”

“I can take the time now that it’s still summer, but I would like to remind you again that I am not a certified therapist, so if I determine that their issues would be solved with a clinical psychologist, I will redirect them to a friend of mine.”

“Of course, but please, talk a bit with them and see if you can do something.”

“I will. I will give you the days I want them to come see me, first individually for a week or two and then I will add an extra session where they will come see me together so we can work on their interaction with one another.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’ll let them know, but first I still have to speak with my professor to see if he wants to do it.”

“Don’t worry; let me know by Friday at the latest so we can already start with the sessions next week.”

“I will, thank you very much for your time and willingness. It really means a lot and if you need to, you can charge them a bit of money per session so that you don’t work completely for free.”

“Let’s not worry about money right now, we’ll see by Friday, okay?”

“Yes, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“See you on Wednesday and take care Harry.”

“You as well.”

He immediately contacted Sirius through the mirror to let him know about what he talked with Florence and Sirius seemed willing to attend the sessions both individually as well as together with Severus. He was even willing to pay for them.

With his godfather on board with the idea, he wrote a quick letter to Snape telling him about attending counselling sessions, alone and with Sirius, to work through whatever negative feelings they harboured for each other. He told him about all the benefits of counselling for a person’s mental and emotional well-being and its effect on a person’s physical health as well. He also told him about Sirius’ willingness to do it, in case it served as a further motivator and an incentive to have him agree more readily to his plan. He finished off by saying that he wanted to help both him and his godfather, but that he would understand if he didn’t want to accept his proposition and he apologised in advanced if he was acting out of line.

He was about to sign the letter and send it off with Hedwig to its recipient, when he remembered what Sirius told him about Snape and his mother and he dared adding a post script asking about whether what his godfather told him was true. Then immediately apologised for asking impertinent questions.

…

It took three days to receive Snape’s reply.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I believe you are the only person who seems to be genuinely concerned about my mental, emotional and physical well-being at the moment and although I have my reservations and doubts about this entire arrangement, with how insistent you seem to convince me of all the benefits of counselling, it is hard to refuse your offer._

_I sincerely hope this can work out for all sides involved, but I urge you not to get your hopes up too much. The animosity between your godfather and me runs deep and it will take a while to get rid of it even with professional help. However, I am willing to co-operate and put in the effort to make things between your godfather and me bearable at the very least._

_As for the questions about your mother, I did love her, I still love her, to some extent even romantically, but I believe that your father and godfather wrongly assumed that I lusted after her. Quite the contrary. Such a thought never crossed my mind. She was, after all, my best friend … my only friend for the longest time, since we were kids, before Hogwarts. I told her she was a witch and everything I knew about Hogwarts and the wizarding world. We were close friends._

_I did call her a ‘mudblood’ in a moment of anger and shame, after your father publicly attacked and humiliated me, in our fifth year. I wrongly felt frustrated with her, who was trying to help and defend me, but instead of being grateful, I lashed out at her, insulting her. I want you to know that there isn’t a day I don’t regret saying that, and I’ve apologised to her plenty of times, however, things between her and me were never the same. We grew apart and we never managed to reconnect as friends._

_Regards,_

_Severus Snape_

Harry felt happy and relieved to see that despite his reservations, Professor Snape was willing to improve things with Sirius. It also warmed his heart to read that Snape and his mother were friends even before school and that he really cared for her. That is why it was regrettable to know that their friendship fell apart even when Snape was putting in the effort to save it, but he supposed that some things inevitably come to an end, whether one likes that or not.

…

Once he received information from Mrs. Nightingale on Friday, he contacted Sirius through the mirror and Snape through a letter.

_Dear Professor,_

_I’m glad to know you have decided to give this a try. I have spoken with Mrs. Florence Nightingale and she said that your individual weekly sessions are going to be on Tuesdays at three o’clock in the afternoon for 60 minutes (at least until the new school term starts). Each session will cost you_ _£30 (which is roughly six galleons). Please, find enclosed her address. That is where your sessions will take place. Your first session starts this upcoming Tuesday. If you have any questions, you can write or call her using the contact number and e-mail I have provided you together with the address._

_In a two weeks’ time, roughly speaking, you will start with your joint counselling with Sirius and those sessions will take place on Thursdays, at the same time (15:00) and at the same price (_ _£30). You can split the costs of Thursday sessions to make it fair and even._

_With kind regards,_

_Harry Potter_

_P. S. I’m sorry your friendship with my mother didn’t last and I don’t really care all that much if your love for my mother was romantic or not, I’m just really happy that you loved her and cared about her._

_If it isn’t too much to ask and if it isn’t too painful for you, I would really like to know more about her. I would like to know how she was as a kid. What were some of your adventures together, either prior to Hogwarts or at school. Do you have any photos of you two as children?_

…

Before the month was out, Harry established four main lines of communication.

His godfather, who he talked with over the mirror every day about current things and Sirius and James’ school days, when they weren’t trying to prank people, and he learnt that while his father presented an arrogant and obnoxious front to the world for the most part, in private he also had moments of self-doubt and insecurity. He learnt that, despite all the trouble they got into at school, he was a talented and an intelligent individual together with his godfather.

“Just because I look stupid, doesn’t mean that I am,” he said indignantly during one of their conversations and elicited a laugh out of Harry.

His father was named Head Boy in seventh year and when Sirius ran away from home at sixteen, James offered him a place to stay and James’ parents were the sweetest and kindest people on Earth, according to Sirius.

“It was true that they were old, since they had your father quite late in life, but they were understanding of my situation and happy to offer me a place in their home,” narrated Sirius.

His second line of communication was Snape, with whom he talked about his mother. She wasn’t as mischievous as his father, but she knew how to have fun without breaking rules or at least not getting herself caught breaking them. He also noticed that she knew how to have a mean streak, if the amount of times she rejected her father, the nature of her insults towards him before they became a couple and the way she shunned Snape after that unfortunate ‘mudblood’ incident were any indication.

She was also a brilliant and exemplary student; she excelled in Potions much like Snape, although Snape’s knowledge of potions was on a completely different level that not many could reach.

His third line of communication were Ana Maria and Nathan with whom Harry was getting up-to-date with modern muggle technology and terminology, learning about pop culture, from movies, series, songs, games to books and internet phenomena and trends.

As for his fourth main line of communication, he established contact with Neville. He thought it fit to inform him about them being potions partners before the school term started and trying to create a study plan for Potions to impress Snape and get good grades.

At first, Neville was sceptical about it, but as they continued to talk through an enchanted pair of parchment papers, Harry slowly managed to calm him down and get him on board with his idea and plan. They were even helping each other with their summer homework for all subjects, not just Potions.

With using two magical long-distance communication devices, Harry wrote another letter to Ron and Hermione. He told them that if owls were too dangerous to use as communication, then they could use something else for long distance communication, saying he was sure that there were magical means of communication that didn’t involve owls. However, he made sure not to say he knew about mirrors and parchment, because he wasn’t supposed to know about them.

He waited a few days, but didn’t get a reply.

He was tempted to ask Sirius to lend his mirror to Ron and Hermione so they wouldn’t have to worry about going against Dumbledore’s word, but ultimately changed his mind, because he didn’t want to compromise his godfather or be chastised by Hermione for going against Dumbledore’s orders. It was clear to him that, no matter what he tried, Hermione and surprisingly Ron as well are not going to disobey Dumbledore, even when there were clearly other alternatives and Voldemort had officially stopped trying to kill him.

…

It was truly astonishing how much one could learn in 60 minutes about a person’s present and personality by learning and analysing their childhood. That’s how Florence was able to determine that both Sirius and Severus were broken, traumatised individuals whose traumatic childhoods and troubled home environments have shaped them into people they were today.

It was evident to her that Sirius felt aversion to what his family believed in, yet inadvertently, in his effort to distance himself ideologically from them, he had resorted to the same cruelness his mother exerted against those who shared his mother’s and his family’s beliefs about race.

From his account of Snape and the feelings he evoked in him, she had a theory that the driving force behind that anger and hate was sexual repression. She had a feeling (and later reading of several articles about the correlation between anger and sexual repression confirmed it to some extent) that Sirius felt attracted to Severus, but due to different factors, Severus’ beliefs and interests being one of them, he decided to rid himself of those feelings and suppress them, since he felt guilty and ashamed of them. With time, instead of diminishing, those feelings grew in intensity, but because they were repressed they became twisted and perverted, filled with rage which he directed at the object of those distorted feelings and desires. She knew it was bad the moment Sirius confessed to playing a part in an incident that could have potentially ended in Severus’ death. Although, according to Sirius, he never wished Severus dead. He simply wanted to ‘scare him real good’ so he would leave them alone.

While Severus was going through something similar, his hatred and anger first came out of being targeted by Sirius and Harry’s father and, at some point, he felt sexually attracted to Sirius, but was disgusted and ashamed of being attracted to his abuser, because he didn’t want to end like his mother. The fact that Sirius was a man also played part in Severus’ disgust and shame of himself, because it was clear that his father was also homophobic. At present, she speculated that the source of Severus’ anger and hatred towards Sirius wasn’t only all the insults and violence he had to endure at his hands, but also his own frustration for being physically attracted to him.

Whether they were aware of their feelings, she wasn’t sure, though she had a suspicion that Severus was slightly more aware of himself and his feelings than Sirius.

She was a school counsellor, not a matchmaker or a couple therapist. Despite that, she would try to get both men to behave with civility and tolerance in each other’s presence and be more honest and open about their thoughts and feelings about themselves and about the other person, because this was the only way things could improve for them as individuals and perhaps even as a couple.

That is why the progression was going to be gradual and filled with fun games, starting with icebreakers, where the focus will be on getting them to know each other more personally, then moving onto team-building and co-operative games, to get them to work together for mutual benefit rather than against one another.

They might grimace and complain at being treated like children, because games are apparently only meant for kids, but they needed to learn to associate each other with positive and enjoyable experiences, and playing games and having fun was a good starting point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you google Jessie J's tour dates in 2015, you will notice that there was no show on 1 August 2015, however, since her last show in July was relatively close to Harry's birthday, I decided to use my artistic liberty and make it so that in this alternative reality, she had a show in London on 1 August 2015. 😝
> 
> If you notice any linguistic mistakes, feel free to point them out, I'm really busy at the moment and, even with editing, some things slip my notice. 
> 
> It would also seem that I'm again pairing Sirius with Severus (sorry to all those who aren't fans of the ship 😟). 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. 😄


	10. Birthday Parties & Dementors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville and Harry celebrate their birthdays, Voldemort is slowly getting used to his 'parents', and Dementors attack Harry and his cousin Dudley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: Due to increased workload, I will take a month-long break from all of my stories. Chapter 11 of Taking Charge will be posted on Thursday, 10 October 2019 and from there, the regular biweekly (every two weeks) updating schedule should continue uninterruptedly until the end. Should my workload increase again, I will let you know, but let's hope it won't happen any time soon.
> 
> I apologise for the inconvenience and I hope you understand.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy the chapter! 🥰

During his chats with Neville, Harry learnt that he celebrated his birthday a day before him.

Since he wouldn’t be able to see him in person on that day, he still felt like he should buy him a gift, and from their conversations and what he could recall about Neville from school (which wasn’t much) it seemed that he really liked plants and Herbology, so perhaps a magical plant would be a fitting gift for Neville.

The problem was deciding which plant to get him. He didn’t want to give him something too high maintenance or too dangerous that he would need to handle with gloves. Preferably, he wanted to give him something useful and with medicinal properties, perhaps even something that had a pleasant scent and that he could use in cooking or for brewing tea.

With only a couple of days of time to buy Neville a gift, he spent most of his free time the first day to do research on both magical and muggle plants and their properties.

For the magical portion, he managed to narrow it down to dittany and shrivelfig, and for the muggle portion, he had a hard time deciding between aloe vera, basil, catnip, chamomile, lavender, lemon balm, peppermint, rosemary and sage.

In the end, he went with potted dittany and rosemary, but also bought a selection of loose tea leaf mixtures containing plants that reduced restlessness, anxiety and stress, that boosted one’s immune system and that combated fever and common cold, and some essential oils. He had everything gift-wrapped, then used regular owl post to send it to Neville on the thirtieth, with an attached handmade birthday card.

He hoped that, once the owl reached him and he opened the gift, he would like it. That’s why Harry stared nervously at the charmed parchment that Thursday evening, waiting for Neville to contact him and read about his reaction.

Just as he was about to call it a day, writing appeared on the enchanted parchment. ‘ _Sorry for the late message, I just finished with my birthday party and all the guests have gone home._ ’

‘ _Don’t worry, I was just getting ready for bed_ ,’ he wrote back. ‘ _I hope you like the present._ ’

‘ _I love it. Thank you for the gift, Harry. I really appreciate it. I will look after both plants and make good use of teas and oils._ ’

Harry let out a sigh of relief. ‘ _That’s good to know. I’m really happy you like what I got for you. I wasn’t sure if you would like the fact that most of it is muggle, because it’s not what you’re used to, but you can use rosemary to make tea, flavour your food or make your room smell good. I also read that it improves memory_.’

‘ _I will have to test out that claim and see if your present will help me remember our Common Room passwords and perform better on school exams. Because if it does, I think I will start growing rosemary on my own and maybe even make a business out of it_.’

Harry giggled under his breath. ‘ _I certainly hope that the claim is true then._ ’

‘ _Thank you again, Harry. Now, I’ll have to find something for you as well on such a short notice_.’

‘ _Don’t sweat over it._ ’

‘ _Nonsense. I will get something by tomorrow evening, or Saturday._ ’

Harry smiled fondly at the parchment. ‘ _Thank you, Neville. I’m sure I’ll love whatever gift you decide to get me. Good night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow or whenever I can._ ’

‘ _Good night, Harry, and an early happy birthday to you._ ’

…

_Friday, 31 July 2015_

When Harry woke up the next morning, he didn’t feel any different from other days. He got up, washed his face, brushed his teeth, showered, dressed, and then finished his morning routine by putting on his round glasses. That was until his phone started buzzing as he was eating his oatmeal porridge topped with slices of banana, fresh blueberries and raspberries.

Ana Maria and Nathan sent him birthday wishes in their own styles. She sent him a combination of text and very cute animated animal stickers: a penguin peeking out of a birthday present box, a turtle with a candle on its back holding balloons, two penguins celebrating surrounded by confetti, a panda hugging a teddy bear and a bunny sending a kiss.

Harry grinned at the screen with fondness, feeling warm on the inside.

Nathan on the other hand sent him an elaborate combination of birthday memes that ended up reading: ‘ _Brace yourself. Happy birthday memes are coming_.’ Because ‘ _One does not simply wish happy birthday without a meme._ ’

Here it goes: ‘ _Yay! It’s your birthday! Bravo. You’re an otter year older._ ’ But, ‘ _Don’t worry about getting older. You’re still gonna do dumb stuff, only slower._ ’ So, in the meantime, ‘ _Have thineself an ecstatic day of yearly birth celebration_.’

Harry laughed under his breath. Then, he replied to both.

To Ana Maria, he replied, _‘_ _¡Muchas gracias!_ ’ together with an animated sticker featuring two penguins hugging each other, and to Nathan, he found an appropriate ‘ _Thank you so much!!_ ’ meme featuring a smiling fox and sent it to him.

…

As soon as Harry came through the door of the café, a popping sound startled him, followed by a rain of confetti, a loud “Happy birthday, Harry!” from Ana Maria, Nathan and his boss Victoria, and a chorus of dog barks.

Before he could react or say anything, Ana Maria hugged him and started guiding him towards the till, where there was a homemade birthday cake with fifteen lit candles, blueberry frosting, fresh blueberries and chocolate writing, saying ‘Happy Birthday, Harry’. When they began singing the birthday song, his lips curled up in a grin so wide he was showing his teeth.

At the end, he closed his eyes, wished for peace, health and happiness, not just himself but also the people close to me, and blew out the candles. Victoria then cut four pieces of the delicious three-layer vanilla cake and blueberry buttercream for them to eat.

“Would you mind if I shared this delicious cake with a few other people I know?” he asked Victoria.

“Of course not. It’s your birthday cake. You can share it with whomever you please. I think I have a few plastic containers so, just say how many slices you would like packaged and I will have them ready for you.”

He thought for a bit. He definitely wanted to share some with Mrs. Nightingale and his godfather, Neville also and maybe Professor Snape. For a moment, he considered sending a slice to Voldemort as a thank you for meeting up with him and for letting him live, until he remembered that the man was currently in a different country and that the cake would probably spoil before even reaching him.

“Four slices then,” he said with a smile.

When the time for gifts came, they all got him something. His boss got him a coupon for 40% off all frames for glasses; a glass bottle wrapped in a beige faux leather cover and metallic holder, a mug and a bag of matcha powder.

“Your current glasses look old and like they’ve been through some rough times,” said Victoria. “So you might as well get an eye check-up and a new pair altogether for a slightly cheaper price. Glass and stainless steel bottles seem to be in fashion, so I got you a glass one and you can fill it with whichever beverage you want. Even hot tea, it won’t explode. As for matcha, I hear it has many health benefits. I know you’re still young, but it’s never too early to look after your health.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “I will make good use of everything you got me.”

Ana Maria was next. She got him a bilingual English-Spanish collection of _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_ , a visual bilingual English-Spanish dictionary, so he could keep learning Spanish at school, a card game called _Exploding Kittens_ and a box of chocolates.

From Nathan, he got Lara Croft and Sherlock Holmes related things: a complete collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, a set of different Tomb Raider posters, and two custom-made T-shirts, one featuring Lara Croft from the 2013 videogame and the other featuring the video game cover for _The Testament of Sherlock Holmes_.

“That way, you will always have your _waifu_ and _husbando_ with you, even at school,” said Nathan.

“I will make sure to keep them close at all times,” assured him Harry, amused.

At the close of his shift, the café bell chimed and the dogs raced to the door excitedly, and when Harry looked at the entrance, his eyes widened and he froze in shock.

“Good afternoon, I’m looking for my godson Harry,” said Sirius from the entrance, trying to pet all four puppies at once. His grin widened as he saw Harry, standing behind the till, transfixed. Before he knew it, he was returning his grin and racing towards him to engulf him in a hug.

“Happy birthday, pup,” he whispered into his hair, pressing a kiss to his head and hugging him close.

“Thank you,” breathed Harry still surprised to see his godfather at the café. “I can’t believe you came in, but I’m really glad you did. Come,” he urged him further inside, “let me introduce you to my friends and boss.”

“Ah, so you’re Harry’s godfather. Nice to meet you, I’m Victoria, your godson’s boss.”

“Sirius,” he replied, shaking hands with her. “The pleasure is mine, madam.”

He shook hands with Nathan and Ana Maria as well. Then turned to Harry again and gave him his birthday gift, which he supposed was a set of magical books, but have been spelled to appear as random muggle titles.

“Would you like to eat some pizza and cake?” offered Victoria.

“I would love to,” grinned Sirius.

“Harry, do you still want me to pack four slices or did you plan to give one of those to your godfather here?”

“Yes, please.” He turned to Sirius. “You can give the slice I wanted to give you to Remus … you know, as a way to say thanks for covering for you.”

“I’ll give it to him. You know he has a sweet tooth so, he’ll appreciate it.”

As they were eating pizza and another round of cake, Harry showed his godfather the gifts he got and the congratulatory messages he received from Ana Maria and Nathan in the morning. Then, before they all went their separate ways, they took care of the details for Harry’s birthday party the next day.

“I tell you, Harry, I have everything planned out almost to the minute,” declared Ana Maria. “ _A las once_ , Nathan and I will come pick you and your godfather up in Surrey. _Luego_ , we will go to a waterpark, spend two hours there, go eat something, then go to a karaoke place and spend another two hours there. _Despu_ _és_ , we will go to the cinema to watch _Ant-Man_ , _y, para terminar el d_ _ía_ , we are going to Jessie J’s concert. You should be back in Surrey a little past ten. Unless you would like to change the order of things or maybe go see a different movie, go somewhere else _en vez de karaoke_. It is your birthday after all.”

“No, I like the plan,” he assured her. “I’m really looking forward to it.” After all, it would be his first time for most of the things and he wanted to try them anyway.

She beamed.

…

A little after two o’clock, they left the café through the back door to avoid detection from the Order and walked to Diagon Alley so Harry could send the slices of cake to Neville and Snape through owl post.

“Snape?” repeated Sirius, grimacing. “Why would you want to send a slice of your birthday cake to him?”

Harry shrugged. “Why not? It will be like a token of peace of sorts.”

Sirius snorted. “A token of peace, yeah right,” he mumbled. “More like he needs the sugar so he won’t be so bitter and sour all the time. Although, with how bitter and sour he is, he would need an entire cake to sweeten up his existence.”

Harry sighed. “Sirius, do you have to be like that?” he asked tiredly.

“What?” he said, indignant. “It’s true. Maybe if he ate more sweets, he wouldn’t be sneering and making snide remarks all the fucking time.”

He let out another long-suffering sigh. “Have you already started with your joint counselling sessions with Professor Snape?”

“No,” he grumbled. “But I will, starting next week, and I’m not sure I’m looking forward to it.”

“You can bet that with that kind of mentality and attitude, nothing will improve. Remember that you said that you will try your best to make this work,” Harry reminded him.

“I know,” he pouted. “I’m sorry. It’s just that … Snape gets to me.”

“Yeah, you already said it.”

“Pup … can we like … not talk about Snape. I really don’t want to think about him on your birthday.”

“Why?” wondered Harry. “Because you already think so much about him on other days?”

Sirius started coughing.

“Are you alright?” he asked, worried.

“I’m fine,” he wheezed. “Just saliva.”

Harry nodded and returned to their topic of conversation. “But if you wish to talk about something else, we can do that. What exactly did you get me for my birthday? I doubt it was what I saw at the café.”

“Remus and I decided to get you the complete set of schoolbooks for your fifth year. You will still need to make the trip for potions ingredients, stationery and other trinkets, but at least you won’t have to worry about books.”

“That’s amazing,” beamed Harry.

After sending Neville and Snape their respective cake slices, Sirius accompanied Harry to Mrs. Nightingale, before having to return to his prison. “I mean, home,” he quickly corrected himself. He then hugged and kissed him one last time, before he left.

Harry wanted to do something to help his godfather, but how could he prove his innocence without presenting the real culprit? He would have to ask Mrs. Nightingale for advice.

…

Harry returned to Privet Drive, exhausted but content, carrying his birthday gifts and with the hope that his godfather could prove his innocence without having to rely on presenting Pettigrew before the court.

He couldn’t wait to contact Sirius and tell him what he talked with Mrs. Nightingale, who also got him a birthday present, much to his surprise. She gave him a meditation book, a journal he could use to write his thoughts or as a planner, and some chocolate.

When he reached his room, there was a package on the bed from Neville with a small congratulatory note attached to it. He smiled at the assortment of wizarding candy, a pack of Exploding Snap and his very own Wizard’s Chess set.

He wrote a thank you note to Neville.

‘ _I’m glad you like it. I was thinking about getting you a Remembrall too, because while you aren’t as forgetful as me, anyone can forget something at any time, but I don’t find them particularly useful, because while they show you you’ve forgotten something, they don’t actually tell or show you what you’ve forgotten_.’

‘ _Don’t worry, Neville. It’s perfect_ ,’ assured him Harry. Although with all those sweets he would need to start exercising and eating more healthy. Now that he managed to get to a normal weight, he wanted to maintain it with regular exercise and a healthy diet. In fact, starting Sunday, he would start with a morning exercise routine and start looking into healthy recipes, perhaps even buy a cookbook.

‘ _I sent you a slice of cake my boss at the café baked for me as well. It’s been a few hours since I sent it through owl post, so I think it should be arriving soon if it hasn’t arrived yet_.’

‘ _I got the cake, yes. It was delicious._ ’

‘ _Glad you enjoyed it. Thank you again for the gift and I’ll talk to you on Sunday most likely. I’ll be busy tomorrow throughout the day and I’ll be too tired for anything else other than sleep when I get back._ ’

‘ _You’re welcome and don’t worry, enjoy your birthday party. Good night._ ’

‘ _Good night._ ’

He quickly slipped into the bathroom to wash his teeth and take care of his physiological necessities, and then changed into something more loose and comfortable, before slipping under the bed covers and calling Sirius.

“Did you get home safe, pup?”

“I did.”

“Good. Before I forget, Remus loved his payment for his hard work.”

Harry giggled. “I’m glad. Anyway, I’m about to go to sleep, because I have to get up early for work and if I want to get at least eight or nine hours of sleep I have to go to bed early, but I wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I talked with Mrs. Nightingale about your legal case. Don’t worry, I made it seem hypothetical and in muggle terms, and asked her what someone in your position could do to prove their innocence and she said that having an alibi, witnesses and solid evidence that corroborate it, and a lie detector test should be more than enough. Which made me think that, if we can have you testify under Veritaserum, it should be more than enough to prove your innocence, even if we can’t present the real culprit, since you can’t tell lies when under the influence of the potion.”

Sirius let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, I thought about it too, but I don’t know how willing the Ministry will be to give me a trial now when they haven’t given me one thirteen years ago.”

“Maybe Mr. Weasley knows people at the Ministry that could do something about it,” suggested Harry. “Ask him or, if you wish, I can write a letter addressed to the entire Department of Magical Law and Enforcement. There has to be someone who is just, uncorrupted, unbiased and not easily swayed by money.”

Sirius seemed to think about the suggestion. “I’ll speak to Arthur in private and ask him to be discrete about it and see what news he has for me.”

He nodded. “When you hear anything from him, tell me, okay?”

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow, pup. I’ll come to Surrey around 10:45.”

“Okay,” he smiled. “Good night, Sirius.”

“Good night, Harry.”

…

_Saturday, 1 August 2015_

Harry woke up giddy the following morning, excited to spend an entire day with his godfather and his friends. He worked with an extra spring in his step and finished his shift twenty minutes early, and still received full payment.

He walked back to Privet Drive, sat down on the curb, and waited for his godfather to appear.

“You’re already here?” he joined him. “I thought I would have to look for you.”

“I finished my shift earlier than usual,” he grinned.

“Do you have everything you need with you?”

“I do. Do _you_ have everything with you?”

Sirius pulled a pouch from his pocket and looked inside it. “I do,” he concluded with a smirk.

“Even the swimming suit?” he teased.

“Of course, that’s the most important part of the entire equipment.” He leaned in to whisper, “I transfigured a pair of my briefs for that. I thought about sending Moony to buy me swimming trunks, but he’s already going to have his hands full with making others believe I’m sick, I didn’t want to torture him more.”

Harry laughed and as he looked up, he saw Nathan’s car enter the driveway. He got up, dusting off his backside. “They’re here,” he said to his godfather with a wide smile.

…

_Meanwhile_

Voldemort was lying on his bed in his room at the Hanssons, throwing a soft, squishy ball (which was actually a transfigured ball of crumpled paper) into the air and catching it, while Nagini lay beside him on the bed.

He could hear his ‘mother’ cook through the walls. She was preparing Swedish meatballs in a creamy sauce with mashed potatoes and lingonberry jam, and fluffy Swedish pancakes … with more lingonberry jam. By the sound of that muggle apparatus known as television, his ‘father’ was in the living room, watching something, and judging by the few stray sentences he caught, it was a programme on agriculture.

He glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. Someone from Hogwarts should be arriving soon. No one had replied to the letter his ‘father’ wrote on his behalf, but he was certain that someone should be making a visit very soon. He wondered who it would be. He doubted it would be Dumbledore, maybe McGonagall or some other professor. He didn’t care that much … as long as it wasn’t Dumbledore.

Five … ten … fifteen minutes passed, during which he managed to fill the room with flying paper cranes, and no one came ringing the doorbell.

“ _Felix_ ,” called his ‘mother’ from the kitchen, “ _lunchen är klar_.”

Voldemort reached for his translation earpieces and put them into his ears. “ _Stay here,_ ” he instructed Nagini. “ _I won’t be long._ ” Then headed to the kitchen.  

His ‘father’ was already sitting in his usual place at the small dining table, which was overflowing with scrumptious looking food.

“Dear,” said his ‘father’, “it smells and looks delicious.” Voldemort smiled and agreed with him.

“Well, dig in then, you two,” she said, joining them. “You, son, especially. You need a lot of nutrients and sleep, since you’re still growing and developing,” she reached out and caressed his arm gently. Voldemort didn’t know how to react to such a motherly gesture, so he simply resorted to an awkward and tight smile, before picking up his cutlery and cutting into a meatball.

“I certainly hope his growth won’t translate into height,” remarked his ‘father’ teasingly, “because he’s already tall enough, any more and we will have to adjust the door height so he can fit through without hitting his head.”

“I’m not that tall,” he protested good-naturedly.

“With your 180 centimetres, you’re tall enough to play basketball or volleyball.” He turned to his wife. “It’s like all the food he eats either goes to his brain to make him smart or into his height.”

A chuckle escaped him as a subdued grin rested on his lips.

“So be it,” she said. “The boy has to be strong and healthy and if he’s also tall, handsome and smart … well, all the better.” She turned to him and smiled. “Right, Felix?”

He mumbled affirmatively, focussing on his plate and fighting off an amused grin.

…

At the end of the meal, his ‘father’ praised his wife’s cooking one more time and placed a brief and chaste kiss on her lips, before retiring to the shed. Voldemort, on the other hand, stayed behind and helped his ‘mother’ clean the dishes as the good son that he was.

Halfway through their washing-up, the doorbell rang. “I’ll go,” he said, drying his hands in a kitchen towel. He opened the door and came face to face with McGonagall. “Good afternoon,” he greeted, “what can I do for you?”

“Good afternoon, I am Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. I came in regards to the letter Erik Hansson sent to us.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking hands with her. “I’m Felix Hansson. Come in.” He held the door wide enough for her to enter. “Mother, a representative from Hogwarts is here,” he called in Swedish.

“Ingrid Hansson,” she greeted, shaking hands with McGonagall.

“Minerva McGonagall.”

“Please, take a sit.” She guided her to the sofa in the living room. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“A cup of black tea with a dash of milk, please.”

His mother went to prepare the kettle, when she turned to him and said, “Go tell your father we have a visitor from the magic school you’re going to attend come September.”

Once all four of them were in the living room, with a cup of tea each, McGonagall started speaking.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hansson, while I understand the circumstances behind your son not attending Durmstrang or Hogwarts, once you moved here to the United Kingdom, it is impossible for your son to start with fifth year. I know that it will be a bit uncomfortable for him to share classes with students younger than him, but at least he won’t be struggling with the subjects.”

“If you’re worried about Felix failing and struggling with fifth year classes, I can assure you that Felix is intelligent enough to catch up quickly in a month,” said his ‘mother’ in his defence. “If he was able to skip a year in high-school, I don’t see how he couldn’t learn the material of all the subjects for the first four years.”

“Yes, but, madam, it is still four years for seven core subjects and two years for at least two electives worth of material he would need to learn by the end of August so he could sit for the exams to qualify him for fifth year.”

His ‘parents’ turned to him. “What do you say, son?” prompted his ‘father’. “Do you think you will be able to learn everything this lady mentioned by the end of August?”

He smiled. “I will, father.”

Erik turned to McGonagall. “Well, there you have it. You heard the boy. He’s going to learn everything you said he needs to learn in a month.”

McGonagall was speechless.

“Well … if you’re sure, Felix,” she said sternly. “Then I will send you the necessary list of schoolbooks you will have to acquire to get up to date with your future classmates. I will also send you the list with the electives so you can choose at least two extra subjects. As for the exams, instead of having to sit for a minimum of 32 exams, you will only sit for a minimum of nine, meaning that each exam will be a bit longer than usual, but it will encompass all the material from the first four years of Hogwarts curriculum. Once I know the dates for individual subjects, I will communicate them to you immediately. Since the exams are both theoretical and practical, I will also try to arrange it with the Ministry to let you practice magic at home, even though you’re underage. Any questions?”

Voldemort shook his head. “No, madam, at least not for now,” he added.

“Very well,” she nodded sharply. “In case you have any doubts along the way, feel free to mail me or any of the professors. I am sure they would be happy to answer your questions.” She finished her tea and rose to her feet. “If that is everything, I will be on my way to get all the bureaucracy in order.”

They accompanied her to the front door to see her off. “Thank you for your consideration and patience.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a small smile. “I just hope your son isn’t biting off more than he can chew with this one.” She looked at Voldemort. “But if he manages to succeed in this ambitious and foolhardy endeavour, I think that I would be extremely disappointed if he doesn’t end in my house, because Gryffindor could always do with more students such as you, Felix.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Professor. You won’t be disappointed.”

She huffed, smirking. “I’m looking forward to the end of August then, to see what you’re made of.”

…

_Saturday, 1 August 2015, 21:45_

“ _Y_ , Harry,” prompted Ana Maria as they were driving back to Surrey after the concert, _“_ _¿qu_ _é tal tu fiesta de cumplea_ _ños?_ Did you like it?”

“ _Much_ _ísimo_ ,” he grinned, thinking to all the times he went down the waterslides in the waterpark, the scrumptious food at the restaurant, to all the duets he sang with Ana Maria and Nathan at the karaoke place, the movie and the popcorn at the cinema, and the music at the concert. “I had a lot of fun today. Thank you again for doing this for me.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Nathan. “As long as you had a good time today, that’s what matters the most. Everything else is irrelevant. Isn’t that right, Sirius?”

“Exactly,” he agreed, ruffling Harry’s messy hair, “and besides, you’re not the only one who had fun today.”

“Will we do something similar for your birthday, Ana Maria?” asked Harry.

“ _No precisamente_. We’ll be at my house and we’ll play some summer outdoor games like throwing water balloons at each other and shooting water from water guns, then we can play some board and card games, since I have a lot of those, you know, Monopoly, Munchkin, Exploding Kittens, _etc_ _étera_.”

Harry’s eyes were already glittering from excitement. It was a good think that her birthday was so close to his and that in a week’s time they would be celebrating a birthday together again, and then, on December 27th, during his Yule holidays, Nathan would be celebrating his birthday.

As they arrived at Privet Drive and were saying goodbye to each other, Sirius remembered he owed money to Nathan and Ana Maria.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Nathan dismissively, “you can come around the café anytime you want and deliver the money and maybe stay around for a coffee or something.”

“Then expect a visit from me sometime next week.”

“Take care,” said Ana Maria and Nathan at the same time, before they waved at them and drove away. Harry looked after them with a big grin on his face.

…

_Sunday, 2 August 2015_

Harry should have known that a disaster was bound to occur after so much peace and happiness.

Everything started great, he got up early, even though it was Sunday, to go for a morning jog, and then do some stretching exercises, some squats, sit-ups and push-ups before returning home, taking a shower and preparing some herb omelette with fried cherry tomatoes and a slice of toast for breakfast. He then spent most of his morning doing homework and drinking matcha he got as a birthday gift from his boss and water from his new glass water bottle.

He made his own healthy lunch again, this time, he stir-fired some chickpeas, tofu cubes, carrot strips, broccoli and black beans and ate it with baby spinach and sweet corn salad.

In the late afternoon, when the heat of the day started to diminish, he went out for a walk and ended at the playground nearby, swinging idly on the swing.

When he was about to go home and start preparing his dinner (he was craving some Chicken Caesar Salad), he noticed his cousin Dudley and his gang. They noticed him too, but instead of approaching him, Dudley’s friends went their own way and his cousin came closer and sat into the swing next to him.

An awkward silence stretched between them for a while.

“So …” said Harry to break the silence, “How are you and your friends doing?”

Dudley shrugged. “Okay, I guess. We were at Dennis’ playing videogames.”

“Nice … What kind of videogames?”

“Shooting and fighting mostly … although,” he whispered, “don’t tell mom, but we also played some online porn games and watched porn.”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh,” he said, “don’t worry; I won’t say anything to Aunt Petunia.” It was better that he played videogames and watched porn than went around the neighbourhood, terrorising kids.

“It’s embarrassing talking about sex with her or even with dad,” admitted Dudley. “So, we mostly just gather at our houses and look up sexy pictures and watch different porn sites. Sometimes we even look up some things and read articles on Wikipedia about it.”

Harry had to admit that he was impressed. Who would have thought that Dudley would ever want to read anything willingly? The power of sex was truly amazing and terrifying.

“And what are some of your favourite porn videos to watch?” He hoped he wasn’t asking too much or being too invasive.

“Well … I really like watching creampies. It’s when the porn actors don’t wear condoms and they ejaculate inside the woman’s pussy or ass,” he explained, when he saw Harry’s confused expression.

“Oh, I see. And besides creampies, what else do you enjoy watching?”

“Monster porn. It’s usually animated porn and it usually features a woman being fucked by all sorts of monsters, from tentacle aliens, to insects and ogres.”

Harry was just nodding to what his cousin was saying, wide-eyed. He really didn’t have a comment.

“And …” Dudley suddenly grew nervous, “when I’m alone, I also sometimes watch gay and lesbian porn.”

“Do you like it?”

Dudley looked uncertain. “I guess. I mean … I do get hard when watching and I can masturbate to it, but I’m not proud of it.”

“Why?” wondered Harry. “Would you be ashamed of falling in love with another guy if it happened to you in real life?”

He sent a blank stare his way. “Harry, you’re acting as if you don’t know my parents at all. They’ve been calling you a freak for years, me included, just for doing supernatural things, what do you think they’ll call me if they ever learnt I got hard watching two men and two women have sex?”

Harry winced. He was right. “You’re right, they wouldn’t be thrilled. They might even think I put you under a spell or something.”

“Thrilled?” he scoffed. “That’s an understatement. They would disown me, my father would beat the living shit out of me, my mother would probably commit suicide and …” he sighed. “It’s just not worth the hustle.”

“Even if you really loved and felt happy with another man?” he insisted.

Dudley fell silent. “I don’t know,” he answered after a long beat of silence. “I don’t know if I would have the balls to be with another man for life.”

Harry tentatively reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

Almost instantly, the sun disappeared, the sky clouded and darkened, and the air grew colder. It even started raining.

Both Harry and Dudley were alarmed by the sudden changes, but unlike Dudley, Harry knew exactly what caused those changes in the environment. _Dementors._

With no time to wonder what dementors were doing in a muggle town, miles away from Azkaban, he urged his cousin to run back home.

“What’s going on, Harry?” he panted as he ran alongside him.

“Dementors,” he panted. “They are very dangerous.”

“How dangerous?”

“They can either leave you feeling depressed,” said Harry, slightly out of breath, with his heart pounding in his head and chest, “or they can suck out your soul and leave you like a living corpse for the rest of your life.”

Dudley paled, glancing around them, and as if spurred, he began running even faster.

“You won’t be able to see them,” breathed Harry keeping up with his cousin’s speed, “if they catch us, but – don’t worry – I know how to get them away – I just need to use magic.”

“Then what are you waiting for, dammit! Use it!” yelled Dudley.

They reached the tunnel, the water puddles splashing under the weight and force of their steps, but before they reached the other side, the dark, cloaked and skeletal figure came swooping in in front of them.

“Shit!” cursed Harry, ducking and whipping out his wand, preparing his most recent happy memories to fuel his Patronus, while also trying to shield his cousin, but another dementor came at them from behind and knocked them to the floor.

Harry lost his grip on his wand and it rolled just out of his reach.

“Dudley, try to keep your head down and face hidden,” he managed to get out, before the dementor seized him by the throat and shoved him into the wall, knocking all air out of him, and he could feel happiness and warmth leaving him.

On instinct, he swung out with his dominant hand and managed to connect with the Dementor’s head, causing it to stagger and loosen its grip. He landed on the floor and hurried to his wand and with the experiences of these past two days with his friends and godfather, he yelled out “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

The stag that drove away the horde of dementors in his third year shot out of his wand and charged at the cloaked creature to make it go away. Then, glancing at his cousin, who had been flipped on his back and pinned down by the second dementor, he pointed his wand at him, letting his stag gallop to his cousin’s help.

With the two dementors gone, Harry hurried to Dudley’s side to see how he was. He appeared to be conscious, but his gaze was lost somewhere in the distance and he wasn’t responding.

“Dudley, can you hear me?” asked Harry softly. No answer. “I know you probably don’t have the strength to move, but we need to get you home.” No reaction. Harry sighed. “I don’t know if it works on muggles, but chocolate is supposed to make you feel better after an encounter with a dementor. Come on, Dudley,” heaved Harry, trying to move him and only succeeded in dragging him across the ground.

“Come on,” he urged him, “you can do it, Dudley. You’re a big and strong guy. If you get yourself into shape you might even become a heartbreaker,” he babbled encouragements, anything to get Dudley to react and drag his feet to the house.

Panting, his wand still in hand, he looked up at both ends of the tunnel and saw Mrs. Figg walk towards him with a bag on wheels. He froze, then remembered his wand was still out in the open and quickly pocketed it away.

“Don’t put it away yet, Harry,” she said. “They might come back.”

“Wait a minute, you know what I am?” he asked cautiously.

“Of course I know, dear boy. After all, Dumbledore told me to keep an eye on you. Now, enough dilly-dallying, we must move fast. We don’t want dementors to return.”

After a lot of heaving, panting, grunting, and manoeuvring, he managed to get Dudley to stand up and lean onto him for the remainder of their walk.

It wasn’t until they reached the threshold that he started to dread his aunt and uncle’s reactions when they would see Dudley’s state. He only hoped they wouldn’t jump to conclusions and if they did, he hoped they would give him a chance to explain what happened … without freaking out too much.


	11. 12 Grimmauld Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for not uploading on time, but as I've mentioned to one reviewer, I am very busy and haven't even had the time to answer the lovely reviews you've been leaving on my stories. I will do my best to update Famiglia Porter by the end of Sunday and also answer most of the comments as well. From now on, I won't even set any fixed deadlines for updates, just roughly once a month. 
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy the chapter, I hope the wait was worth it and feel free to leave comments. 😊

With the heart in his throat, Harry reached out and rang the bell. The wait made the feeling of utter panic and terror worse by the second, then, when his aunt opened the door and gasped, horrified at the sight of her son; muddy, pale with a slight greenish tint to him and a blank expression.

“Diddy!” she exclaimed, immediately fussing over him. “Diddy, what happened?”

In response, Dudley spilled out his guts all over the doormat. Alarmed, his aunt started calling for her husband to help her who came waddling out of the living room. Avoiding the vomit on the ground, he helped his son get over the threshold together with Petunia, both completely ignoring Harry, something he was very much grateful for.

He followed them inside, being mindful of the spew. All the while, Petunia and Vernon were trying to get Dudley to talk to them and tell them what had happened. Vernon thought, probably because of the fact he vomited, that he might have ingested something at Denis’ house that made him ill. On the other hand, because Dudley was covered in dirt, his aunt speculated he had been mugged and was ready to call the police.

They reached the living room, where they seated him in the middle of the sofa, both on either side of him. Harry wondered whether he should be the one to explain what had happened, but he wasn’t sure how much his aunt and uncle would believe him if he told them about dementors.

Twisting his hands nervously, he took a deep breath and said, “We weren’t mugged, but we were attacked.”

They finally seemed to register his presence and they both looked sceptically at him. “By whom?” Vernon asked with narrowed eyes.

“It wasn’t a person, it was a creature.” He gulped. “A magical one,” he concluded in a quiet tone.

They both paled considerably and turned to Dudley to corroborate what he was saying. “Is that true Dudley?”

He nodded slowly and some of the fear left Harry’s chest. “I didn’t see anything,” Dudley finally found his voice. “But I felt and heard something. A voice. Inside my head.”

Vernon and Petunia looked worriedly at their son. “What did you hear, Pumpkin?” breathed Aunt Petunia.

Dudley refused to answer. He only shuddered, rubbed his chest, whimpered and shook his head.

“What else happened, son?” asked Uncle Vernon in a quiet voice.

“I felt cold … real cold and horrible … as if … as if I would never be happy.”

They exchanged confused looks, but sent a suspicious look towards Harry. “Son, are you sure that _he_ ,” Vernon pointed at Harry, “didn’t do anything to you? Maybe he put you under some crackpot spell to make you feel that way and hear that … voice.”

Harry felt the need to defend himself before such accusation, but he held his tongue and breath, and waited for Dudley to speak. So far, he was speaking in his favour.

His cousin shook his head. “It wasn’t Harry. I’m sure.” Harry let out an inaudible sigh of relief.

“Then what did this to you, Diddy?” insisted Petunia.

“Harry called them Dementors.” Recognition sparked in his aunt’s eyes as they widened to the size of saucers in utter terror, while his uncle couldn’t have looked more confused. “He says they can suck out your soul … or leave you depressed. But he … he took care of whatever was making me feel cold and horrible.”

There was silence, with his aunt and uncle staring blankly at Harry without saying a word. Then, they looked at each other, silently communicating something with their looks.

“Should we take him to the doctor?” asked Petunia after a while.

“I don’t think it will be necessary,” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

Again, he was the centre of attention.

“Are you saying this will go away on its own?” inquired Vernon.

“He should feel much better after a cup of hot chocolate and a night of sleep. If his condition doesn’t improve by tomorrow night, then you can take him to the doctor,” said Harry. “Why risk the neighbours seeing him in this state when you can wait it out a bit?”

They seemed to consider his words. “Very well,” said Vernon. “We’ll wait for twenty-four hours to see what happens.”

“In the meantime, I can go prepare him a cup of hot chocolate,” offered Harry.

“There should be a pack in the cupboard next to the powdered cocoa,” said Petunia.

He nodded and went to the kitchen. “A nice, warm bath would probably also help him a bit,” he called from the kitchen and Petunia immediately agreed.

“We have to get him out of the dirty and wet clothes; otherwise he might develop a cold or pneumonia.” Together with her husband, she helped Dudley up the stairs. “When the chocolate is ready, bring it upstairs,” she instructed him.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

As he was preparing the chocolate, an owl swooped in through the kitchen window and dropped a letter on the counter next to him.

Harry picked up the envelope, opened it and froze as he started reading the contents of the letter.

He was being expelled from Hogwarts, he thought numbly, feeling light-headed. Not only that, he was going to lose his wand too. The Ministry officials are going to come and snap it in half … just because he used magic in self-defence and to defend his muggle cousin who had been aware of his ability to do magic for four years now. Hell, when he performed magic on Vernon’s sister and turned her into a human balloon in front of his relatives, he spoke with the Minister himself and he told him it wouldn’t affect him in any way. So why and how was this occasion fundamentally different from that one that it would warrant his expulsion and snapping of wand, perhaps even Azkaban?

Almost immediately, another owl swooped in and dropped a note in front of him. It was from Ron’s father, Arthur Weasley, telling him that Dumbledore was at the Ministry, trying to sort everything out and that he should stay at his relatives’ house and hold onto his wand.

Harry didn’t know how to feel about the note. He supposed he was happy that Dumbledore was trying to represent and defend him legally, and to have been informed of that at such a short notice, but it hurt to know that if the Dementors hadn’t attacked him, no one apart from Sirius would be contacting him, probably for the rest of the summer holidays.

Inhaling deeply to calm himself, he turned his attention back to the chocolate and carried it upstairs just as his aunt had instructed. Then, he went to his room, where he immediately changed clothes and reached for his two-way mirror and called his godfather.

“Pup!” he exclaimed in a loud whisper. “I was just about to send you a message. Arthur told me what happened and that Dumbledore is already negotiating your expulsion and destruction of your wand, but tell me, how are you? Are you okay?”

“Aside from the shock that I’m most likely going to face charges for defending myself and my cousin, I’m fine.”

Sirius exhaled in relief and sank into his chair, clutching his chest. “Thank Merlin for that. It’s a good thing Remus taught you that spell, because I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened to you if you didn’t know how to protect yourself against a Dementor.”

“Me neither,” he agreed. The sole thought of him not being equipped with the knowledge was enough to make him shudder. “Were you also able to learn more about why the Dementors were in Little Whinging or who sent them?”

“Unfortunately not yet,” grimaced Sirius. “Maybe we’ll know something by tomorrow, but some are already speculating that it was probably Voldemort who sent them after you.”

“How?” wondered Harry who was certain that Voldemort didn’t have anything to do with this. “He doesn’t know where I live and didn’t he say that he would leave me alone? Why send Dementors after me then?” he reasoned.

“I know. It had to be someone who knows where you live, or at least an approximate location, has a grudge against you and has the access and the power to influence Dementors. If you ask me,” he looked around, “it has to be someone from the Ministry.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What makes you think that?”

Sirius looked as if he was deciding whether to tell him or not. “I didn’t really want to talk about it with you, because you don’t need to read rubbish some reporters publish just to get readership without thinking how they are affecting the lives of people they write about,” he began, “but for the past month or so, all _The Daily Prophet_ does is talk rubbish about you and Dumbledore. Calling you liars and lunatics for saying that Voldemort is alive and back. In Dumbledore’s case, they are even accusing him of being after Fudge’s post.”

“Oh,” said Harry blankly. He remembered there was a clause in his agreement with Voldemort about defamation and lies and animosity and, while he made trips to Diagon Alley a few times, he didn’t really pay attention to much else so he wasn’t really aware of how the press had been portraying him since the end of the school year.

“Please, pup,” pleaded Sirius, “stay away from all that negativity. Don’t go reading _The Daily Prophet_ , it will only put a smudge on your current happiness and it’s not worth it.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled reassuringly, “I won’t, but thank you for letting me know.”

Sirius smiled too. Just then, another owl came, this time flying through his room’s open window. Harry dreaded opening it, but did it anyway to see what the final decision of the Ministry was.

“What does it say?” wanted to know Sirius.

“It says that I have a hearing on the twelfth of August and that whether I will be expelled and have my wand snapped will be decided at the hearing. For now, I’m suspended from Hogwarts.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll come up with something to get you out of this mess until then, and if there’s any justice, any at all, you will be cleared of all charges, because you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Warmth enveloped him from the inside. “Thank you,” he smiled. “I really appreciate it.”

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, pup,” assured him Sirius. “Now, go to sleep, oh, and before I forget, be alert, the Order will come collect you sometime next week.”

“Is that something that was planned from the very beginning or are they only coming to get me because of the Dementors?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“They planned to get you sometime mid-August, but the Dementor attack only pushed the date forward.”

Harry nodded. He was excited to live with his godfather, but he wasn’t really looking forward to seeing his friends and the rest of the Order. “One more thing,” he said.

“What is it, pup?”

“The note that Arthur sent me said that I should stay inside the house and not leave it. I’m afraid I can’t do that. I have work, and I have my sessions with Mrs. Nightingale and my guitar lessons with Nathan and my Spanish and English lessons with Ana Maria; I can’t just not go for an entire week because the Dementors might attack me again.”

“I know,” he said apologetically, “I will speak with the Order and try to convince them to let you go about your day. They might need to tighten the security on you, but if two or three people are constantly keeping an eye on you wherever you go, it should be enough.”

“I hope so, because I refuse to let this incident affect my everyday life.”

And to prove his point, he went to the kitchen after concluding his conversation with Sirius and made himself that Chicken Caesar Salad he was craving for dinner.

…

Harry woke up early the next day so he could go for a jog around the neighbourhood. Accompanied by two Order members. According to Sirius, Remus and a woman called Tonks volunteered to be his bodyguards for the week, until they finally assembled enough people and a plan to transfer him safely to the headquarters on Saturday evening.

Wearing sweatpants and a loose T-shirt he bought for himself, he opened the front door, expecting to see them on the doorstep, waiting for him, but didn’t see anyone.

‘ _They’re probably hiding under a charm or something_ ,’ he speculated as he closed the door and started running at a normal pace.

Not even a minute into his jog, he heard someone say “Wotcher, Harry” to his right. He turned his head towards the source of the voice and almost suffered a heart attack when he noticed a woman with spiky hair and a violent shade of violet directly next to him. He stopped abruptly, clutched his chest and let out an expletive.

“Are you mental?” he said upset. “Who does that?”

“Forgive Tonks and I for frightening you, Harry,” apologised Lupin awkwardly.

He sighed. “Just … don’t ever do it again, unless you want to send me to an early grave.” Lupin chuckled in amusement.

Harry looked at the woman. “So … you’re Tonks?”

“Yes,” she smiled and offered him a handshake. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Harry. You’re exactly how I imagined you to be.”

Still bothered by the scare she gave him, he kept a serious expression. “I can’t say I share the sentiment,” he deadpanned, “but since you’ll be breathing down my neck until Friday, I guess it’s nice to know who is following me around all the time,” he concluded with a forced and fake smile.

Tonks flushed in embarrassment and Lupin winced.

“It might be longer than that,” said Lupin apologetically.

Harry stared blankly at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid that until you return to Hogwarts, you will be stuck with bodyguards whenever you leave the safe house.”

“ _If_ I return,” he said. “Remember that I still have the disciplinary hearing first. As for being stuck with bodyguards until then … unbelievable. I hope that you’re also trying to learn who sent those Dementors here.”

“We are,” said Tonks, “but it might take us a while.”

“Good. Now, as you can see, I’m in the middle of my morning exercise. First, I’m going to do a circle around the neighbourhood and then I’m going to do some stretching, squats, push-ups, pull-ups and sit-ups at the playground. You’re welcome to join me,” he said and before they gave him an answer, he already started running again.

“What is the plan for today then, Harry?” asked Lupin, jogging on his left.

“After morning exercise, I’m going to shower, eat breakfast, and prepare a lunchbox to take with me to work. At nine, a friend will come pick me up with his car for guitar lessons at ten at his apartment above the café where I work. I probably won’t leave the café until five, when I end my shift, unless I will have to take the dogs for a walk. After work, I’m going to use public transport to get back to Surrey.”

“Why use public transport, when we can simply apparate you to Privet Drive?” wondered Tonks.

“As long as I don’t get into trouble because of it, can save some time and money, and you don’t mind apparating me from Surrey to London and back, then I’m all for it,” said Harry excitedly.

“You shouldn’t get into trouble,” said Remus, “but you never know, so we shouldn’t overdo it.”

“Then it’s settled.”

…

As he was preparing breakfast for himself, mushroom hash with poached eggs and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, he also made two extra portions for Remus and Tonks and served them in two separate plastic containers. If they already jogged with him, he would feel bad not feeding and watering them, and both looked grateful for the food and drink.

He did the same with the lunchbox. Instead of making only one portion of tuna rice salad featuring green peas, finely sliced spring onions, chunks of tomato, and peeled, deseeded and diced red pepper for himself, he made two extras and also added some fresh fruit as desert or an afternoon snack and a bottle of water to all three.

…

Half an hour before leaving for London, Harry went to check on his cousin. He found him sitting in bed, staring blankly through the window onto the street.

“Hey,” he greeted. Dudley glanced at him and returned his greeting, before returning his gaze to the window. “May I come in?” He received an affirmative murmur.

Harry entered Dudley’s spacious room littered with videogames, the latest high tech entertainment systems, snack leftovers, clothes strewn on the floor.

“I just wanted to check on you,” spoke Harry in a soft tone, “to see how you were doing. Are you feeling any better?”

Silence buzzed and stretched between them. When Harry was about to take Dudley’s lack of answer as a negative reply or as his desire not to speak about the subject, his cousin opened his mouth and said, “Physically … I feel fine. Mentally … not so much.”

“Would you like to talk about what’s been bothering you since last night?” asked Harry with caution, trying to use a tone similar to the one Mrs. Nightingale used when they had their sessions. “About what you heard?”

There was another long stretch of ambiguous silence on Dudley’s end.

“Of course,” added Harry quickly, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but it might help you feel better if you talked openly about what you’re experiencing.”

His cousin heaved a heavy sigh, taking his time to decide whether he wanted to tell him about it or not. After an eternity, he whispered, “I heard a voice. A voice inside my head, telling me that I am … pathetic.” His look remained focussed on a distant point on the horizon. “That I am fat, ugly, and cruel and someone no one would want to spend their life with … that I am going to end up alone and miserable.”

Harry didn’t know how to react to such a confession. On one hand, he wanted to say something soothing and consoling, something his aunt would have done, just to make Dudley feel better, but on the other, he wanted to confront Dudley with the cruel and ugly truth of his bullying actions and tendencies, his lack of care for the things he owned, his appearance and his attitude.

Despite all the sadism his cousin indulged in for entertainment and all the bad things he had done to him and to others, Harry didn’t think he was evil or irredeemable. However, for the improvement to take place, he needed his cousin to realise, acknowledge his wrongs, and make a conscious decision and effort to better himself as a person, and he wasn’t going to achieve that shift in thinking if he coddled and handled him with gloves like his Aunt Petunia had been doing for Dudley’s entire life.

He had to be frank and straightforward, but while it was important to point out all his wrongs, he also needed to provide alternatives and suggestions for self-betterment, that way Dudley would have some guidelines which he could then choose to follow to feel better about himself.

“That’s true … all of it. You’ve been cruel to me … to others for years, although you could say that recently you’ve not been as cruel as before, mostly because of videogames,” he said. “It’s a fact that you are overweight and, as much as people like to say that appearance isn’t everything when dating, sadly appearance does matter … a lot. Your obesity and your sadism aren’t exactly an attractive and an appealing combination for most and … if you stay like this … if you remain as you are now … then it is very likely that you _will_ end up miserable and alone, because no one will want to be with someone like you. However, the only way things will change for you is if you decide to change yourself, to become a better person.”

Dudley looked miserable with his crestfallen expression and downcast gaze. “Does that mean I will have to go on a diet?”

“One of the things, yes, but don’t worry,” he chuckled, “you won’t have to starve yourself. You can still eat full meals, three times a day, just make sure that you eat smaller portions and are mindful of how much and what you eat. You will probably have to do a bit of research about differentiating between good and bad carbs, sugars and fats, and focus on protein. It would also be nice if you not only focussed on weight loss, but also maybe tried to work on sculpting your muscles, but no bodybuilding.” He grimaced and shuddered. He really didn’t like how people ended up looking after steroids and it didn’t even look attractive, if anything it looked ugly both on men and women.

“Maybe you could get yourself a gym membership and weightlift two to three times a week, or buy some gym equipment and have a workout at home,” he said enthusiastically instead. “I’m sure you can find videos about proper postures and workout routines for different stages, or you could join me and do morning exercise with me. Although,” he looked at his own biceps, “I suppose I could do with some weightlifting as well. I do want to build both stamina and muscles, but nothing too much. I don’t want to look like a bodybuilder.”

Dudley seemed to consider his offer and suggestion. “Do you think – Do you think it will help me?”

“In terms of appearance, definitely, and if you look good, hopefully, you will also feel good about yourself and you won’t feel the need to be violent and cruel to other people, because … otherwise … something terrible might happen,” he said ominously.

“Like what?”

Harry sighed. “What do you think will happen if you forget yourself and end up killing someone? You might not go to a traditional prison, but you can end up in some correctional institution or juvenile prison, where you will await your transfer to an adult prison at eighteen, and your mom and dad won’t be able to do much, if anything, for you then.”

Dudley gulped, pale as a sheet.

“Every action has consequences, Dudley. Some are immediate and some take time to show, but they always happen. You think you can get away with most of the shit you do, because your parents never punished you, set you limits, never truly showed you what is acceptable and what is not, but you aren’t untouchable and one major fuck up can ruin your entire life,” he said. “And I don’t think you want to spend most of your life behind bars because you were unable to be a functional and exemplary member of society.”

He could see his words were making Dudley uncomfortable, but he had to say things as they were. No sugarcoating. “You may think I’m simply scaring you, but we both know that it’s the truth and if you don’t want to end in trouble with the law sooner or later, you should stop with your bullying and vandalism, because you never know when everything can go wrong for everyone involved.”

“I don’t want to go to jail,” whispered Dudley.

“Then change,” said Harry. “Stop with any illegal activities ASAP and let your friends know that too. Acting like jocks by being assholes doesn’t sound as appealing when you get handcuffed, sent in front of a judge and sentenced for ten or more years, does it?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“You can still be a jock without beating people up, throwing stones at people or at private property and writing graffiti to deface public and private buildings.”

His cousin looked mortified.

“Like I said,” he comforted him, “your interest in videogames and … other things has definitely had a positive impact on your behaviour so far, so if you like it, keep playing and watching those … things, and add a healthy diet and lifestyle to that as well and I can almost assure you that you will feel like a man reborn. I can give you the links to the site with healthy recipes that I’m consulting for my own diet and to the site with the recommended amount of daily calories if you’re trying to lose, maintain or gain weight, but I’m afraid you will have to look for weightlifting on your own,” he concluded apologetically.

“Thanks, I guess,” he said awkwardly.

Harry smiled. “You’re welcome.” He stood up. “Anyway, I’ll be leaving now and I’ll see you in the afternoon,” he said and left the room.

…

“Here,” said Harry nonchalantly, handing the two extra lunchboxes to Lupin and Tonks, “so you won’t be hungry while waiting for me to end my shift.”

“Thank you, Harry,” they said in unison.

He acknowledged their gratitude with a nod. It was still five to nine and a question struck Harry. “How are you going to follow me in Nathan’s car, when you won’t be able to get inside without rousing suspicion?”

They produced broomsticks. “Like this,” announced Tonks with a wide grin.

…

As the day went by, Harry couldn’t help but wonder why Lupin and Tonks couldn’t just apparate him to the headquarters instead of Privet Drive. Why did they have to wait until Friday to do it if it was as simple as teleporting to the location, like he teleported to Diagon Alley with Voldemort?

His gaze turned distant. ‘ _I wonder where he is now,_ ’ he thought as he was washing the coffee cups. ‘ _Would he be somewhere cold like the mountain or somewhere warm like the beach? Hang on … do Dark Lords even swim and sunbathe?_ ’ The thought of Voldemort wearing swimming trunks, exposing his lean and pale frame to the scorching sun or lying on an inflatable pool bed floating on the water surface while wearing sunglasses and drinking some fancy drink from a melon, coconut or watermelon bowl with a straw and decorative umbrellas was very bizarre yet oddly normal. ‘ _I just hope he’s really taking some time off and enjoying his vacation._ ’

He started drying the glasses. ‘ _And while I really want to live with Sirius maybe I should just wait until Friday and help Dudley sort himself out in the meantime. I should let Mrs. Nightingale know about it and perhaps ask her for advice on how to continue my approach._ ’ Because he would certainly need some advice on how to deal with people that are not as good friends as one thought they were.

…

The faster Friday approached, the more nervous he felt. Luckily, he managed to distract himself with music, Spanish, exercise, reading, cooking, homework and chatting with his godfather and Neville.

In the second half of the week, Dudley joined him in the mornings for the jog, before heading to the gym, Aunt Petunia started cooking healthier food and serving smaller portions, and even then, Dudley calculated and weighed all of his food.

On Thursday evening, he told them he would be leaving until next summer and as he said that, his aunt and uncle did something unexpected and completely out of character.

“Vernon and I have been thinking,” began Petunia, “and we have decided that … you don’t have to pay us for the monthly mobile phone bill.”

Harry was speechless, gawking at them in shock. “I really appreciate it,” he said carefully after recovering from his surprise, “but why? I mean … are you sure you won’t change your mind about it and suddenly demand reimbursement?”

“If you don’t want what we’re offering you, boy,” said Vernon impatiently, “you can continue paying us in full.”

“I’m grateful,” Harry assured him, “but I don’t understand the reasoning behind such a decision.”

“Consider it our way of expressing our gratitude for what you did and are doing for Dudley,” explained Petunia. “If you hadn’t done … what you did, Dudley would probably not have been with us.”

Even though it was unexpected and not their usual style, now at least, it made more sense to him … although not really, but he wasn’t going to look the gift horse in the mouth by questioning the sanity of his aunt and uncle and just accept the gesture of gratitude, no matter how unusual.

…

After wrapping up the Friday session at Mrs. Nightingale’s, Harry mentally steeled himself for the meeting with Ron and Hermione.

He let Lupin carry his personal effects.

“Ready, Harry?” asked Tonks on his right, offering her arm.

He took in a deep breath, held onto her forearm and nodded. A moment later, he felt like being squeezed through a thin tube and when he opened his eyes and steadied himself, he stood in front of a row of terraced houses.

Before he could ask anything, Lupin put out all the street lamps with some sort of lighter to conceal their presence from the muggles that might be looking through the windows, before offering him a piece of parchment, illuminating the writing with his lit wand.

Harry looked at it and read: _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_.

“Have you memorised it?” asked Lupin.

Harry looked it once over to make sure he had memorised the information on the paper before saying yes.

Remus took the paper out of his hands and set it on fire, then instructed him to think about the location he just read on the parchment. He did as told and where there was no house number 12 between 11 and 13 now the house bearing number 12 appeared between those two.

It looked vastly different from the rest with rusty front door, no mailbox, no keyholes, grimy windows and a silver knock in the shape of a snake. ‘ _Someone must have either really liked snakes as animals or they were fond of snakes because of their association with the Slytherin House_ ,’ thought Harry.

Remus knocked on the door and it didn’t take long before he heard footsteps and metal clinking on the other side. When the door swung open, Mrs. Weasley greeted him, “Oh, Harry, it’s so nice to see you, dear.” She pulled him into a rib-cracking hug before holding him at arm’s length to take a closer look at him.

“You don’t seem as skinny as you usually are this time round, but you still need feeding up, however, you’ll have to wait a bit for dinner, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not hungry,” said Harry politely. “And what will be for dinner if I may ask?”

“Baked baby potatoes, roasted beef and cooked peas and carrots.”

“Sounds delicious,” he smiled. ‘ _If a bit hearty for an evening meal,_ ’ he added in his thoughts. As much as he felt awkward refusing most of Mrs. Weasley’s food from tomorrow onwards, he wasn’t going to ruin his new lifestyle to avoid hurting someone else’s feelings.

“Come,” she urged him towards the staircase, “let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

Harry followed reluctantly, trying to catch a glimpse of his godfather. Just as he was about to ask her about him, Sirius called his name. He stopped and turned to him, his mouth spread in a wide smile.

“Sirius,” he called and ran up to him, hugging him and receiving the hug back.

“Good to see you, pup,” whispered Sirius, after smothering him in kisses. “Glad to have you here.”

“I’m happy to be here too.”

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat and broke their moment. “You’ll have time to talk later,” she practically wrenched Harry out of Sirius’ arms, something he didn’t really appreciate, but held his tongue. “Now it’s time for the meeting. Come, Harry.”

She guided him up the stairs and Harry sent an apologetic look his godfather’s way and received a smirk and a wink in return, something that brought a subdued grin on his face.

…

Mrs Weasley showed him the door on the right, then left him to attend the meeting herself. Harry heaved a sigh, opened the door and saw Hermione and Ron, talking to each other.

Ron noticed him first. “Hiya, Harry,” he greeted with an awkward smile.

“Hey, Ron,” he greeted back, “Hermione.”

Hermione, whipped her head backwards and exclaimed his name, before lunging herself at him, almost knocking him over.

“We’re so sorry for not writing to you,” she said when she let go of him, “but … Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn’t do it in case our owls got intercepted by … You-Know-Who.”

“Yeah, mate,” added Ron, “we really wanted to give you a reply, but we’re really happy to know that you seem to be doing fine.”

“It’s not like I was expecting you to tell me everything that went on here,” said Harry. “A simple ‘ _Hey, how are you? Hope you’re doing okay_ ’ or ‘ _Hey, listen, mate, it’s dangerous for us to communicate like this, let’s wait until we see each other to talk freely_ ’ would be great. At least that way I wouldn’t feel like you don’t want to talk to me or that maybe something might have happened to you.”

Ron and Hermione looked mortified.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look … I understand why you didn’t reply to any of my letters … but I also thought that … after going through all that shit in the past four years it made our friendship stronger, that we had each other’s backs for better and for worse … but I guess I was wrong.”

“What are you on about? Of course we have each other’s back, mate,” said Ron.

“Do we?” wondered Harry with a melancholic smile. “Because it would seem to me that whatever Dumbledore says takes precedence over our friendship. Tell me … if I was bleeding out and Dumbledore told you to let me bleed to death … would you leave me to die?”

Their eyes widened in horror.

“Or an even more extreme _hypothetical_ case … What if Dumbledore told you to push me off a cliff or out the window … would you do it?”

“Dumbledore would never ask us to do such a thing,” said Hermione.

“I’m saying _hypothetically_ , Hermione,” he deadpanned. “And you haven’t answered my question. _If_ Dumbledore asked you to let me bleed out or shove me off a cliff, would you do it?”

Hermione blinked. “Of course not, Harry, don’t be ridiculous,” she huffed.

The fact that it took her this long to answer the question worried and disheartened him greatly, but he kept his poker face on and said, “Why not? I mean … Dumbledore would have said it and since his word seems to be sacred and absolute, I would think you would stab me and abandon me to die if he asked it of you.”

“Look, we’re really sorry for not writing to you, but the letters and actually killing you are two very different things, mate, and we would have to be mental to ever listen to something like that,” said Ron.

Harry’s lips spread into a small smile. “That’s good to know, it would be extremely worrying otherwise,” he joked. “And don’t worry, I do understand,” he said.

‘ _I understand that I can’t fully rely on you or trust you or tell you everything without you probably going to Dumbledore with the information_ ,’ he thought to himself, and even though his relationship with Ron and Hermione had suffered because of this, he would continue to be polite and hang out with them. At least until they did something that he just couldn’t get past it and that ruined their friendship for good … but even then, he would simply cut his ties with them and mind his own business.

…

On Monday, Voldemort found himself lounging in his room at the Hanssons, waiting for McGonagall to send him the literature list and the exam dates, when out of nowhere, an image of himself mountain climbing and sunbathing while drifting on some kind of soft raft appeared in his mind.

He frowned. Why would he think of something like that? He wasn’t even fond of cold places or summer heat.  

Before he could analyse it, a knock brought him out of his thoughts. He sat up in his bed and ordered Nagini to hide under the bed.

His mother entered, carrying a parchment envelope. “An owl just came flying in through the kitchen window and it delivered this.” She handed it to him.

He opened it. “I think it’s the booklist and exam dates that professor promised to send you.”

“Yes, it is.”

She looked at the list in his hands. “Oh my,” she gasped, covering her mouth. “That’s a lot of books, Felix. Will you be able to carry all at once?”

“I’m sure I can ask the shopkeeper to make it lighter with magic,” he said pleasantly.

“And what about the exams?” she asked worriedly when she saw the dates and times. “Will you be able to do all nine in five days?”

“Yes, mother,” he sighed. “Don’t worry.”

“I know you’re very smart, son, but having three ninety-minute exams that encompass four years of knowledge in three days is a lot.”

“And that’s just the written part, mother. There’s still the practical part, thirty minutes each.” He pointed at the Thursday and Friday, with five and four practical exams respectively.

“You will have to look after your health, Felix. You will have to make sure you eat properly, stay hydrated and that you get enough rest at night, but also during the days. You may be young, but too much stress is never good. Remember that. Not just in school, but work and life in general.”

He heaved a sigh. “I know, mother, I know. I will regulate and pay attention to my health. I have no intention of falling ill and missing the beginning of the school year.”

She smiled and brought him in for a sideway hug and pressed a kiss to his hair, which made him go stiff, but he tried his best to mask just how uncomfortable he felt by the spontaneous parental gesture. “If you need anything, you know you just have to say it to your father and I and we will do our best to help you, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem.”

He nodded and she let go of him.

“Since the list is long and time is going by fast, I suggest we go shopping for your school supplies as soon as possible. I just need to check the bus and train schedules and go look for your father.”

What? “There’s no need for that, mother,” he hurried to say. He wasn’t going to let them accompany him to Diagon Alley as if he were a child. “I can get the books on my own,” he insisted.

“I know you can, but your father and I would like to accompany you. That way, we can spend more time together, before you have to leave for Hogwarts and after we’re done with the shopping, we can go explore the alley a bit or go eat something as a family.”

He snorted mentally. ‘ _Family,_ ’ he thought sardonically, ‘ _as if. You wouldn’t even treat me the way you do if I hadn’t messed with your memories and programmed you to be a loving and caring muggle mother to a magical child._ ’

It proved difficult for him to keep smiling, when all he wanted was scowl and put both muggles to sleep so he could do all of his errands alone. Although, honestly, he didn’t even need the books, he remembered most of it anyway. Maybe he would need to revise certain aspects of certain subjects such as Herbology and Astronomy, but he shouldn’t have problems with the rest of the subjects.

“Sounds great, mother,” he grinned.

The woman left his room and as soon as he was alone, he rolled his eyes and mentally steeled himself for an afternoon with his ‘parents’.


	12. A Make-Over and Hanging Out

“Oh my,” gasped Ingrid in awe as she took in the sight of a crowded and bustling Diagon Alley. “Erik, look,” she said excitedly, tugging on her husband’s sleeve and pointing at different magic shops, “floating books, self-stirring cauldrons and broomsticks made for flying and not cleaning.”

“Yes,” returned Erik, “I can see that, dearest.”

Voldemort was fighting the urge to cover his face. “Honestly mother,” he sighed instead, “you act as if this is your first time visiting this place.” Which it was, technically speaking, but he had implanted a string of memories related to the alley already in her mind.

“I know, darling, but it’s been some time since we last came here, and things have changed. Besides, it’s so exciting to see all this magic in person again,” she said giddily. “I feel truly blessed to witness such wonders and to have a son like you.” She looked at him with a brilliant smile and reached out to caress his hair.

Voldemort didn’t move and a knot formed in his throat. “And what kind of son am I?” he asked after clearing his throat.

“The best son any mother could wish. You are smart, good, hard-working, and honest.” He wanted to snort, because that couldn’t have been further from reality. “The fact that you were gifted with the ability to do magic only confirms how special you are. You are our miracle, our greatest treasure and you will do great things in life. I’m sure of that.”

Voldemort searched her face and mind to see how honest she was and when he couldn’t see any dishonesty in her words, thoughts and gestures, he couldn’t help the weird ache in his chest at being considered someone’s greatest miracle and treasure, much less to a pair of elderly muggles. Until he reminded himself that it was probably mind manipulation talking, and he felt something akin to disappointment settle in his chest. All the same, he smiled bashfully. “Thank you, mother. I will try not to disappoint.”

“Son,” said his father, placing a hand on his shoulder, “your mother and I are already proud of you, so don’t feel pressured to live up to any expectations. Although,” he added, ”if you manage to find a job that you like and pays well, and someone good to share your life with, that will be more than enough for us to feel like we did well as parents.”

He let out a small snort and nodded. He wondered if they would be saying the same thing if they knew the truth. Probably not.

After they bought everything from the list McGonagall had sent him, they went to the Leaky Cauldron for supper and to Florean’s ice cream shop for dessert. It felt strange to have a family outing, but overall, everything went better than what Voldemort anticipated.

…

What Harry thought would be a pleasant evening meal at his godfather’s place turned sour when his godfather asked a simple question.

“So … any plans for tomorrow, Harry?”

“Well, I have work tomorrow morning at the post office in Surrey, and when I finish, Nathan is picking me up so we can go to Ana Maria’s for the birthday party, so, I’ll be absent until dinner, but I’m free after that so, if you want, we can hang out for a bit.”

“Work?!” exclaimed Mrs Weasley. “Harry, dear, there is no need for you to work. You’re a child still. Besides, you are in danger of being attacked by Dementors again, so you shouldn’t even be considering leaving the house until September. Be a good boy and don’t get into any trouble unnecessarily.” She smiled in a motherly way.

For some reason, Harry didn’t appreciate the tone and the implications behind Mrs Weasley’s comment. He clenched his jaw and levelled Ron’s mother with an unperturbed look. “While I appreciate your concern for me and my well-being and for sheltering me in the past, Mrs Weasley, I am by no means a child, much less a clueless or a helpless one.”

She looked shocked. The rest of the people gathered at the table fell completely silent and were observing the interaction with surprise and curiosity.

“I am well aware of the danger that Dementors pose to me,” he continued in a hard, but polite, tone, “but I refuse to stay cooped up in here for fear of being attacked. I will not let fear rule my life. If Dementors attack me again, I will protect myself from them. Simple as that.”

“But – but … if you use magic, you will get in trouble with the Ministry again.”

“For defending myself?” countered Harry incredulously. “If acting in self-defence is a crime punishable by law, then I’m gladly going to break it a thousand times and more. My life has more value than attending a school or exposing magic to muggles. It would be a pity if I lost my wand, but so what. As for my work, I am old enough to earn my own money if I want, the law permits it, and you’re not my mother to have any say in what I do with my life.”

Mrs Weasley gasped; her face pale and her hand clutching her chest. The rest were wide-eyed as well, even Sirius, though his surprise soon morphed into pride and he had to mask the smirk that threatened to spread across his lips by taking a sip from his goblet.

Harry, on the other hand, returned his attention to the food on his plate and continued eating, though, to be fair, he didn’t feel as hungry anymore. One by one, the others joined him and the clinking of the cutlery soon filled the dining room again.

“He’s right, you know,” Sirius commented offhandedly. “If he wants to work or go out and hang out with people then he should be able to do so. He’s not a convict.”

Mrs Weasley turned to Sirius with fury in her eyes. “This is all your influence,” she accused. “Instead of being an exemplary role model to your godson, all you’re doing is trying to rope Harry into mischief and breaking rules. He isn’t James.”

Sirius’ eyes turned cold. “I know he’s not James or Lily,” he snarled, “and since when does supporting one’s decision to be independent, mature and his own person equal encouraging bad behaviour?”

“As if,” she scoffed. “And I ask you, since when does intentionally exposing oneself to danger translate to being independent, mature and one’s own person, because last time I checked, that’s called stupidity and wishing for death and Harry is neither stupid nor a suicidal lunatic.”

“And what good will being locked up in this shithole do for him?” pressed Sirius, losing some of his temper. “All it will do is drive him mad and make him restless.”

“At least he would be safe from harm.”

“For Merlin’s sake woman, you can’t treat him like he’s made of porcelain!” exclaimed Sirius. “Give Harry some credit and room to breathe and spread his wings. After all, he single-handedly took care of a horde of Dementors at thirteen; he can handle himself just fine.”

“I know he can,” she replied sternly, “but you’re missing the point. He’s fifteen. He’s a minor. He shouldn’t _have_ to worry about things like this.”

Sirius was about to respond, when Harry intervened. “Like I said, I appreciate the concern, Mrs Weasley, but what you _need_ to understand is that what’s normal for most fifteen-year-olds isn’t normal for me. What _is_ normal for me is taking care of myself and my problems, doing things on my own, constantly worrying about my well-being, and facing danger. Not doing any of these would be unusual and abnormal to me.”

He let out a sigh and continued.

“Being coddled and treated like a child now, when I have been treated like an adult for most of my childhood, feels unsettling rather than liberating. Instead of coddling, shutting myself inside a house for fear of running into danger and being told what I can, can’t, should or shouldn’t do, what I _need_ is understanding, guidance, and advice; tools with which I will be able to make better decisions in life.

I will always welcome guidance and advice, because I’m still young and I lack experience and tools to handle certain things, but it is ultimately up to me to decide whether I want to consider and implement them in some way or not, because I still want to be in control. I do not want to let other people and things rule my life and the choices I make. I still want to be my own person, and if I end up making a bad decision, then it will be me who will live with the consequences of my actions. After all, in two years’ time, I will be a legal adult and there’s nothing wrong if I start acting responsibly beforehand and think about my future by gathering work experience and earning my own money. Besides, if you’re _that_ worried about my safety, Professor Lupin and Tonks will keep an eye out for any danger.”

He set the cutlery on the table, finishing his meal. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I will go to my room and get ready for bed.” The chair rattled as he rose. “I have to be up early and I need at least eight hours of sleep, and starting tomorrow, I will be making my own meals. Good night.”

As he left the room, he could feel the befuddled gazes of the people at the table.

…

He climbed into bed, removed his glasses, pulled out his phone and checked for any messages or posts in the group chat he had with Ana Maria and Nathan.

He was in the middle of typing a response to something funny Nathan had said when a light knock distracted him.

“Come in,” he called and in came his godfather.

“Busy?” he asked when he noticed the device in his hands.

“A bit,” returned Harry, “but don’t worry, I’m done.” He finished and sent his reply, then turned his full attention to his godfather, who came to sit next to him on the bed. “Are you here to comment on what I said at dinner earlier?”

“Partly, though I agree with what you said, as much as Molly may not like it,” he said softly, running his fingers through Harry’s messy hair. “But I get her, because I also worry about your well-being and safety. Only that I know better than to interfere when you’ve already made you’re decision. I know I didn’t like it when my mother would prohibit things, whether they made sense or not. I would always do the opposite just to spite her.”

Harry laughed under his breath and affectionately shook his head. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You know how we still haven’t really had the opportunity to spend much time together as godfather and godson?”

“Aha,” he murmured.

“Well …” said Sirius, clearing his throat, “I was thinking if you would like to play some exploding snap or wizard’s chess or just hang out for a bit after dinner tomorrow.”

Harry grinned. “Of course I would love to spend more time with you, Sirius,” he assured him. “You’re my godfather. And we don’t have to limit ourselves to indoor activities only, though I’m always up for card or board games or simply talking.”

“I would love to go outside as well, Harry, but I’m still a fugitive and a criminal in public’s eye and I have already risked my neck just to spend those few occasions with you and now to attend those therapy sessions with Mrs Nightingale.”

“And I wouldn’t want you risking yourself like that, that’s why I have an idea,” he concluded with a mischievous glint.

Sirius’ eyebrows shot upwards. “Oh, and what idea is that?”

“Not telling. You’ll see it tomorrow when I get back.”

“Dammit, Harry, now you’ll have me wondering about your wickedly brilliant idea the entire night and day,” complained Sirius.

Harry snickered. “My bad, but it will be worth it. Trust me.” He sat up and placed an arm around his godfather’s shoulders.

“If you say so, pup,” he sighed in resignation.

“And when you’ll be able to leave the house at your leisure, would you consider doing something for yourself, health-wise?”

“You want me to start eating like you and getting up at an ungodly early hour to go for a jog? Is that it?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said Harry, “but working out together can also be a good way to spend our time outside the house and get some fresh air. I’ve also been considering going to the gym and doing some weightlifting, nothing crazy, just something to work on my body muscles.”

“Sure, I could give it a try, but we’ll see how I do with getting up at five in the morning. I’m not really a morning person.”

Harry chuckled, but looked forward to spending more time with his godfather.

…

He woke up at five on his own, washed his teeth and face, donned his sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, then went to check on Sirius to see if he was in the mood for a morning jog, but as expected from their conversation the previous night, he was in no condition to wake up and function properly.

Letting Sirius get his sleep, he left the house and ran around the neighbourhood to get familiar with it. He was especially keen on finding a playground with a chin-up bar so he could work on his grip, endurance and strength by performing pull-ups, and he found it.

He wrapped up his morning workout routine by six, then hurried back to Grimmauld Place to shower and prepare his breakfast. Luckily, Lupin and Tonks had offered to apparate him so he would not have to worry about public transport.

He ate breakfast with his bodyguards, all the while looking up nearby barber shops at good prices on his phone. Then at ten to seven, they apparated to Surrey.

After he finished work for that day, Lupin and Tonks accompanied him to the nearest supermarket, where he bought some home hair dye in flaming red, some fashionable, but cheap, sunglasses and a bunch of different flavoured green tea drinks for himself. For Ana Maria’s birthday gift, he went with a fancy lined notebook, some nail polish, a mug, a cheap necklace and earrings set with her zodiac sign on the pendants and chocolates.

Before Nathan came to pick him up, they stopped by another store, this one dedicated to games of all kinds: card, board and video games, to see if he could find something interesting.

The most intriguing (and not too expensive) game turned out to be a card game called _Gloom_ , with transparent cards, where the objective is apparently to make your characters as miserable as possible, then kill them, all the while making your opponents’ characters happy. An interesting element of the game was also storytelling, because each bad or good thing and death that happened had to have a narrative behind it no matter how convoluted and unrealistic. There were a few different themed packs and while Harry was drawn to all of them, he ultimately bought the fairy tale edition and he would buy other packs some other time.

By the time he finished, he had bought a few other games, such as _Dobble_ , _Sushi Go_ , and _Tutti Frutti_.

…

He didn’t return to Grimmauld Place until halfway through dinner and even then refused the meal because he had already eaten at the party.

While he waited for Sirius to eat his dinner in peace, Harry read the instructions that came with the hair dye. He had just set everything up when Sirius came bursting into the room saying, “I’m ready to find out what you have in mind to get me out of this house.”

Harry chuckled and showed him the carton box. Sirius took it and inspected it. “What’s this?”

“It’s a muggle hair dye.”

“You’re going to dye my hair?” he said incredulously. “In this red?”

“Yes,” replied Harry. “Though I think that on you it will look more like purple than a vibrant Gryffindor red because of your dark hair, and I didn’t bother with bleach because, damn, I’m not a professional hairdresser and I heard it ruins the hair.”

“Why not use a hair-colouring spell instead?” wondered Sirius. “Why go the extra step to use a muggle dye?”

Harry shrugged. “For some reason, in my mind, putting actual chemicals into your hair translates to better results that last longer. At least you won’t have to worry about suddenly reverting back to your natural hair colour, because I bought permanent hair dye.”

He reached for the sunglasses. “I also bought you a pair of cheap fashionable glasses. Since it’s summer, it’s not going to look out of place, and on Monday, we’re going to go to a hairdresser and get ourselves new haircuts. That should be more than enough to make it safe for you to leave the house.”

Sirius tried on the sunglasses. “How do I look?”

Harry took a good look at his godfather. “You know … actually … it looks kind of amazing,” he praised. “With your long, curly and messy hair you give off that rockstar vibe, just add a bit of leather, ripped jeans, some silver jewellery and you’re going to look like a proper rockstar.”

Sirius laughed wholeheartedly. “Well, I was certainly going for that kind of look when I was younger. It drove my mother insane. I even had a muggle motorbike, which I then tweaked so it could fly.”

“Really?”

“Aha,” nodded Sirius. “It’s my best invention, besides the Map, of course, although, to be fair, that was a joint effort. I was so proud when I got it to fly I was giddy for days to come and I was showing it off to your father, Moony and … Peter, giving them rides, singing muggle sea shanties.”

Harry laughed, trying to imagine his father and godfather singing sea shanties. “Do you still remember the lyrics to them?”

“Let me see.” He cleared his throat.

_Oh, I thought I heard the old man say,_

_Leave her, Johnny, leave her!_

_Tomorrow ye will get your pay!_

_An' it's time for us to leave her!_

_Leave her, Johnny, leave her!_

_Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!_

_For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow,_

_And it's time for us to leave her!_

_Oh, the work was hard and the voyage was long,_

_Leave her, Johnny, leave her!_

_The sea was high and the gales were strong._

_An' it's time for us to leave her!_

_Leave her, Johnny, leave her!_

_Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!_

_For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow,_

_And it's time for us to leave her!_

Sirius stopped singing and Harry was still in awe at his godfather’s ability to sing. He knew Sirius could sing after the karaoke part of his birthday celebration, but it was the first time he heard him sing without music and it was amazing.

“There’s more to the song,” he said, “but I think you’ve heard enough of it to get the gist.”

“Sounds awesome. Now I’m tempted to look up shanties on the Internet and listen to them.”

Sirius laughed. “Well, then I can tell you which ones to start with. The one I was just singing is called ‘ _Leave her, Johnny_ ’, then ‘ _Bully in the Alley_ ’ is also very dear to my heart along with ‘ _Randy Dandy-O_ ’, ‘ _Drunken Sailor_ ’ and ‘ _Fish in the Sea_ ’.”

“Well then,” he said as he was typing the first song into YouTube search bar, “I think we have our very own playlist of songs to listen to while I dye your hair.

As they were waiting for the colour to set, they were looking up different haircuts, trying to decide which one to get on Monday when they went to the hairdresser.

A couple of hours and a few rounds of different card games later, they rinsed out the dye and the result was as Harry predicted. Instead of vibrant red, Sirius now had burgundy purple hair and it totally suited him. Now all he needed was a haircut and some casual muggle clothing to blend in with them and not rouse suspicion when out and about.

…

On Sunday, he woke up at six and went about his usual morning routine. As he was eating his breakfast, Molly Weasley came down to the kitchen to start on the breakfast for the others.

“Oh, good morning, Harry,” she greeted him with a smile.

“Good morning, Mrs Weasley,” he greeted back, also smiling.

“I see you’re already eating your breakfast.”

Harry glanced down at his bowl. “Yeah. Oatmeal with fresh and dried fruit, chopped nuts and a tablespoon of honey to get me through the morning after exercise.” He rose his teacup. “And a cup of matcha green tea on the side to detoxify the body.”

“Matcha?” she repeated, puzzled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such tea.”

“It comes as a powder and it grows in Japan. It is quite bitter, but I like it that way.”

She sat down next to him. “And … how’s work?”

“It’s fine. I like it. It’s not something I see myself doing for most of my life, but it’s a good place to start gaining work experience.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Harry.” Her smile faltered. “I didn’t mean to imply anything bad yesterday, when I said you didn’t have to work at your age,” she said, “if anything, I think it’s very mature of you to want to see what it means to work and earn your own money, because it isn’t easy. I just wish you didn’t work when there’s a threat out there. I worry about you, Harry. You may not be my child, but you’re as good as one, and I don’t want to see you get hurt or worse.”

Her eyes misted and she blinked away the tears. Harry felt his chest squeeze seeing her like this, so he reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She immediately hugged him back fiercely.

“I’m sorry for saying you weren’t my mother yesterday,” he said, remorseful. “I didn’t mean to hurt you with my words.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” she assured him, patting his shoulder. “I understand your need for independence and not wanting to be treated as a child, but … I also want to you understand that it’s not safe out there, Harry, and I don’t want to lose my family. I have already lost my brothers to You-Know-Who; I can’t let him take you and the rest of my family away too.”

“And I need you to understand that Voldemort and Dementors aren’t the only threats out there,” he looked up at her. “Every time I go out of the house I risk someone attacking me on the streets for money or getting run over by a vehicle. Even Hogwarts isn’t safe, because every year there’s been something dangerous and deadly happening at school. I saw a schoolmate die in front of me; I myself have looked death straight in the eye multiple times. Does that mean I should just remain shut inside, scared of everything and everyone, even my own shadow, because it poses a potential threat to my life?”

Molly looked gobsmacked, unable to argue back. Harry took in a deep, steadying breath and continued, with determination and confidence. “All my misadventures and disasters have taught me that life is short and fragile, and I have to cherish it while I have it and while I _am_ taking care of myself, I also don’t want to miss out on things either. I want to live my life on my own terms, which means that I am not going to sit in this house hiding away; putting the life I’ve built for myself in this past month on hold, because someone hates me enough to want me dead or at least out of school and the wizarding world. I will not give them the satisfaction.”

Molly studied his expression, until she let out a heavy sigh after she realised something. “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind about this, is there?” she caressed his cheek lovingly, a resigned smile on her lips, but there was pride shining in her eyes as she watched the boy on the verge of becoming a man.

Harry smiled back, almost apologetically. “I’m afraid not, but is that really so bad?”

She giggled. “Not at all. Determination, independence, maturity and a clear idea of what one wants in life are always better than laziness and having no purpose or direction. Ron could learn from you.”

“He’ll get there,” Harry assured her with an amused grin. “Eventually anyway. It would be a bit too much to expect him to get excellent grades in school and develop good studying habits all of a sudden.”

“I would rather it be sooner than later,” she admitted, “but one can’t rush those things I suppose. Though I’m hoping that being a prefect will change him for the better.”

“Me too,” he smiled and leaned back in for a hug.

They stayed like that for a solid minute, before Molly cleared her throat and said, “I should let you eat your breakfast in peace, before it gets cold.”

She rose and Harry returned to eating his porridge.

“Do you already know what you want for lunch and dinner, Harry?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I’ll cook.”

She rose her hand to put a stop to his protest. “Harry, you already work six days a week and you also do other things, at least let me alleviate some of the burden by cooking your meals,” she said kindly. “And I think it wouldn’t hurt to cook healthier food for the others as well, so I would be happy if you shared your healthy recipes with me.”

Resigned, Harry relented and agreed to Mrs Weasley’s suggestion. “At least let me help you in the kitchen then,” he insisted. “I’ll join you whenever I can.”

“If you insist, dear.”

He finished his bowl of oats and cup of tea, while giving pointers to Mrs Weasley on how to replicate his breakfast, then stood up and washed the dishes.

“Do you have any plans to go out today, Harry? Or any other plans, really?” she asked him as she was preparing a few extra dishes in case someone preferred to eat something other than porridge.

“No, not really, why?” he took a sip from his glass of water.

“This house is a mess, it hasn’t been properly cleaned for years and while I made it hospitable, there are still rooms that need thorough cleaning and I planned to have everyone clean to make it go faster.” She turned to him. “Would you like to join in the cleaning?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Great,” she grinned. “I would be really grateful if you and a couple of others went through the things in the cupboards in the living room. Beware of doxies and other pests that might lurk inside them.”

“Will do,” he assured her. He remembered Sirius complaining about Mrs Weasley taking over his house, acting as if she owned the place, telling him what to do in his own house. He decided to ask Mrs Weasley about it. He cleared his throat. “Though, I don’t understand why you are so invested in cleaning this place in the first place. I mean, I would understand if it were your house, but it isn’t so … why invest so much time and energy into cleaning it?”

The oil was sizzling as the smell of fried eggs and bacon filled the kitchen.

“And live in a mess?” she countered indignantly. “It might not be my house, but I refuse to live surrounded by dust, grime and household pests. I don’t know how Sirius was able to live in that pigsty before.”

Harry grimaced in sympathy. “Was it that bad?” It had to be, otherwise pigsty was a rather strong comparison.

“It was. Harry … you don’t know how awful this place was when we first arrived here,” she whispered, horrified. “I swear, five minutes into our visit and I was feeling light-headed because of all the bad smells mixing together. Our first night here, a step gave way and Arthur went tumbling down the stairs.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Was he okay?”

“Luckily, he didn’t get hurt, just a few bruises, nothing more, but it was enough to give me a scare and spur me into action, especially when I saw how dusty and infested some of the bedrooms were. I wasn’t going to let my family sleep in those conditions so I took matters into my own hands. I still wonder how your godfather even managed to survive in here for so long.”

“But … what about that house elf? Didn’t he prepare your rooms beforehand?”

“Kreacher isn’t particularly fond of any of us, even your godfather and he is his master, and even though Sirius ordered him to prepare rooms for us, you can be certain that he didn’t put much effort into it, especially for blood traitors, half-breeds and mudbloods, as he put it so lovingly,” she said in a tight smile. “The only thing he cares about is the portrait of Sirius’ mother, his one and only Mistress … or so he says.”

“Well, what about Sirius?”

“When it came to his room and a few places he frequented, he took care of that, the rest, he couldn’t care less, yet he has the gall to complain when all I want to do is make this house clean,” she huffed. She placed the eggs and bacon on a platter.

“I’m sure he appreciates the effort.”

“Perhaps, though he certainly doesn’t show it.”

“Badmouthing me in front of my godson, are we?” The suddenness startled both Harry and Molly and they turned to the door, where Sirius was standing in his pyjamas, still somewhat groggy.

“It’s hardly called badmouthing when all you tell is the truth,” returned Molly after she recovered from the jump scare. She set the table.

“Well, sorry if I’m not the biggest fan of cleaning,” commented Sirius, “still, it’s really annoying when you keep ordering me around in my own house as if you were my mother.”

“Maybe if you had taken care of yourself and your house properly I wouldn’t have to order you around.”

“What are you trying to imply?” he said coldly. “That I can’t take care of myself?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. You may be thirty-five, but you don’t have a clue about how to live on your own and run a household without it ending up looking like a mess and you want Harry to live with you.”

Harry looked from one to the other in concern. He wanted to support his godfather, but he also agreed with Mrs Weasley to some extent, therefore whatever he said had better diffuse the argument, without siding with one or the other.

“Okay, enough, both of you,” he said in an assertive tone. “You’re both right.” He turned to Mrs Weasley. “Mrs Weasley, while Sirius might not have been the most helpful or mature of people so far, putting pressure on him and keeping him locked in here won’t make him mature or cooperate faster.” He turned to his godfather. “And you, Sirius, could appreciate Mrs Weasley’s effort to keep the house up and running for you and try to put in a bit of effort to make cohabitation more bearable.”

Sirius crossed his arms across his chest and Mrs Weasley went back to setting the food on the table. “It is not my intention to make him miserable or to order him around for my pleasure,” said Mrs Weasley, “I simply expect him to show he’s a capable adult. That is all.”

“How can I show it when I’m not allowed outside the house?”

“Oh, don’t think even for a second I haven’t noticed your little escapades, Sirius.” Both Harry and Sirius stiffened. “And don’t even try to deny it. I might be getting old, but I’m still as sharp as ever.” Seeing the panic in their expressions, she added. “Don’t worry; I doubt the Order knows. I just hope that wherever you’re going every week is worth the trouble.”

Sirius cleared his throat, some of the tension leaving his frame. “I went out to see Harry a few times, then I got myself a muggle mind healer and I’ve been going to mind healing sessions ever since.”

“I see. That is surprisingly mature of you to have sought out professional help for your time in Azkaban,” she commented.

“Harry suggested it; I simply decided to give it a try.”

“Is it working?”

He shrugged. “I would say yes, but … it’s a slow process.”

“I would imagine, but I’m glad to hear you are doing better on that front.”

Sirius nodded in acknowledgment. “Thank you and I’ll try to be more helpful around the house, even though I don’t like this place very much.”

“Just hang on until you’re cleared of all charges and then you can move out to your own place,” said Harry, sitting next to him and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Sirius smirked self-deprecatingly. “I doubt it will be any time soon.”

Harry was about to ask him if he had learnt anything from Mr Weasley about the situation when the man in question entered, greeting everyone present joyfully.

“Good morning, sir,” returned Harry. “Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, seeing as you work at the Ministry, would it be possible to arrange a trial for my godfather?”

“Oh, about that, Sirius has already asked me to look into it and I think that your best option would be to contact Madam Bones. She is known to be very strict but fair, and has a reputation of being incorruptible. I believe you will meet her at your disciplinary hearing, Harry, though you don’t have to wait until then to ask her about Sirius’ case.”

Harry smiled in relief. “Thank you for looking into it, sir.”

“It was the least I could do, Harry.”

…

After breakfast, they all split into small groups. Harry, Ginny and Sirius were tasked with cleaning the cupboards in the living room and going through the stuff inside them. Equipped with gloves, cloth mask covering half of their face, a basin of water, cloth, kitchen towels, and doxycide they were ready to deal with dust and any doxies that might have built a nest inside abandoned cupboards, though with how awful the smell of doxycide was, it was more likely they ended up passing out as well.

As they were cleaning, Harry kept thinking about the pirate songs he had been listening on repeat since the previous day and before he knew it, he was murmuring the melody and muttering the lyrics to ‘ _Bully in the Alley_ ’. Sirius soon joined him while Ginny simply listened to them, confused, until they both taught her the lyrics and she ended up singing pirate shanties with them.

Halfway through their cleaning, Harry found a beautiful piece of jewellery. It was a gold locket with a stunning emerald ‘S’ in the front. “This looks really nice and expensive,” he commented, drawing the attention of his godfather.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before,” concluded Sirius after examining it.

“See if you can open it to see what’s inside,” suggested Ginny.

“Good idea, Ginny,” said Harry, but no matter how much he tried to open it, it wouldn’t budge.

“Here, let me,” offered Sirius, took out his wand and tried the unlocking spell. It didn’t work. He frowned at the locket. “Strange. Maybe it’s stuck together with a permanent sticking charm … just like my mother’s hideous portrait.”

“It’s still a very beautiful piece of jewellery,” shrugged Ginny. “It can still be worn as a necklace.”

“I don’t think I would recommend that,” warned Sirius, “who knows who it belonged to and what kind of nasty thing they put inside that it had to be sealed like that. We’re better off just leaving it alone.”

Harry kept looking at the locket, mesmerised by the smooth and shiny gold surface, the brilliant emeralds stones. For some reason it felt familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before. He kept running his thumb over it, until he thought he felt something akin to a heartbeat coming from inside it and he stopped abruptly, gasping.

“What is it, Harry?” asked Sirius worriedly.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just thought that it could have been a good birthday gift for Ana Maria, that’s all.”

Sirius snorted. “That would have been a terrible gift, Harry.”

“What about you, Ginny? Would you like to keep it?”

“I would love to, but I don’t think my mum would let me, sorry.”

“Then maybe I’ll keep it,” he said, dangling it in front of his chest. “As a good luck charm or something.”

Sirius laughed. “Suit yourself, but I would be careful with that thing if I were you, pup. It might seem harmless now, but Merlin knows just how nasty it might be.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised and slipped it inside his trouser pocket.

…

Later, as he was showering, he took it out and examined it again. After a few moments of deep concentration, he felt the faint heartbeat coming from the locket. “Holy fuck,” he whispered, “there’s a heartbeat inside. Why is there a heartbeat inside the locket?”

He didn’t know if he should let it go or hold onto it, the only thing he was sure about was that Sirius was right, this was some weird artefact that for all he knew could curse him or drain his life force or suck out his blood through some weird magical mechanism. There was also this weird, déjà-vu, feeling he had in regards to the locket.

Taking in a deep breath, he collected himself and continued holding onto the locket. Just as he was getting used to the heartbeat and the faint pulse of magic, he thought he heard whispers come from within as well.

“First the heartbeat, now the whispers, next thing I know, there’s going to be a person coming out of it,” he said to himself and as he said it, a realisation hit him. “A person,” he repeated, wide-eyed in a barely audible whisper.

‘ _Voldemort_ ’, his brain provided.

He had experience with Voldemort’s diary. When exposed to prolonged skin contact with it, it pulsed as well, it had magic, it could communicate with the outside world … and it was a horcrux. Could the locket be a horcrux as well? If so, he was certain that Voldemort would like to have it.

Maybe he should send it to him, but under what excuse? He doubted something like, ‘Hey, listen, I found this gorgeous locket while cleaning my godfather’s house and immediately thought you should have it, because it would look nice on you,’ would work on a man like Voldemort. He would immediately become suspicious and he had to approach this with care.

For now, he decided that the best and safest option for him was to keep quiet about it and keep the locket safe, either around his neck or at the bottom of his trunk, for when the perfect opportunity to give it to Voldemort presented itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since those shanties are in the public domain, I figured I could put in a few stanzas to flavour the chapter a bit. 😀 I'm aware that there have been different version and adaptations done by modern artists, but at the core, the songs mentioned in this chapter are in the public domain.
> 
> As for Voldemort and Harry, they'll meet again in the next chapter. 😉 In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm really proud of how the dialogue turned out for this one and the dynamic between the characters.


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